rail 
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^.B. CLARKE 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CORNER 


THE  MAN 
IN   THE   CORNER 


BY 


BARONESS    ORCZY 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SCARLET  PIMPERNEL,' 
"THE  ELUSIVE  PIMPERNEL,"  ETC. 


Illustrated  by 
H.  M.  BROCK 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,    MEAD  &  COMPANY 
1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  C.  ARTHUR  PEARSON,  LTD. 


COPYRIGHT,  1909, 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


Published,  September,  1909 


Stock 

0 


o 


I'M 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB 

I.  THE  FENCHURCH  STREET  MYSTERY        .  i 

II.  A  MILLIONAIRE  IN  THE  DOCK     ...  n 

III.  His  DEDUCTION       .......  26 

IV.  THE  ROBBERY  IN  PHILLIMORE  TERRACE  31 
V.  A  NIGHT'S  ADVENTURE      .....  40 

VI.  ALL  HE  KNEW  ........  52 

VII.  THE  YORK  MYSTERY     ......  57 

VIII.  THE  CAPITAL  CHARGE       .....  65 

IX.  A  BROKEN-HEARTED  WOMAN       ...  81 
X.  THE  MYSTERIOUS  DEATH  ON  THE  UN- 

DERGROUND RAILWAY     .......  86 

XL  MR.  ERRINGTON      .......  103 

XII.  THE  LIVERPOOL  MYSTERY       .     .     .     .  116 

XIII.  A  CUNNING  RASCAL     ......  129 

XIV.  THE  EDINBURGH  MYSTERY     ....  138 
XV.  A  TERRIBLE  PLIGHT     ......  145 

XVI.  "  NON  PROVEN  "      .......  153 

XVII.  UNDENIABLE  FACTS      ......  160 

XVIII.  THE   THEFT   AT   THE    ENGLISH    PROVI- 

DENT BANK       ........  165 

XIX.  CONFLICTING  EVIDENCE     .....  176 

XX.  AN  ALIBI       .........  182 

XXL  THE  DUBLIN  MYSTERY      .....  191 

XXII.  FORGERY  ..........  196 

XXIII.  A  MEMORABLE  DAY      ......  207 

XXIV.  AN    UNPARALLELED    OUTRAGE      .     .     .  216 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTE3  PACK 

XXV.  THE  PRISONER 221 

XXVI.  A  SENSATION 236 

XXVII.  Two  BLACKGUARDS 240 

XXVIII.  THE  REGENT'S   PARK   MURDER     .    .    .  245 

XXIX.  THE  MOTIVE 256 

XXX.  FRIENDS 264 

XXXI.  THE  DE  GENNEVILLE  PEERAGE         .     .  270 

XXXII.  A  HIGH-BRED  GENTLEMAN     ....  277 

XXXIII.  THE  LIVING  AND  THE  DEAD    ....  286 

XXXIV.  THE    MYSTERIOUS    DEATH    IN     PERCY 

STREET 296 

XXXV.  SUICIDE  OR  MURDER? 302 

XXXVI.  THE  END 321 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"The  man  in  the  corner"  (page  57)    Frontispiece 

FACIKO    PAGE 

"  It  was  some  time  before  the  constable  suc- 
ceeded  in   rescuing  the   tramp  "  -34 
"  He  was  '  struck  all  of  a  'eap  "        .       .        .92 
"  '  I  must  speak  with  you  immediately  ' ;>       .    124 
"  He  had  found  the  door  locked  and  forced 

it  open  " 224 

"  '  It  looks  as  if  he  had  been  strangled  ' '  .  248 
"  The  shrieks  of  the  chambermaid  .  .  .  had 

attracted  some  of  the  waiters "  .  .  274 
"  On  the  floor  .  .  .  lay  the  body  of  Mrs. 

Owen" 298 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  FENCHURCH  STREET  MYSTERY 

THE  man  in  the  corner  pushed  aside  his  glass,  and 
leant  across  the  table. 

"  Mysteries  !  "  he  commented.  "  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  mystery  in  connection  with  any 
crime,  provided  intelligence  is  brought  to  bear 
upon  its  investigation." 

Very  much  astonished  Polly  Burton  looked 
over  the  top  of  her  newspaper,  and  fixed  a  pair  of 
very  severe,  coldly  inquiring  brown  eyes  upon 
him. 

She  had  disapproved  of  the  man  from  the  in- 
stant when  he  shuffled  across  the  shop  and  sat 
down  opposite  to  her,  at  the  same  marble-topped 
table  which  already  held  her  large  coffee  (3d.), 
her  roll  and  butter  (2d.),  and  plate  of  tongue 


Now  this  particular  corner,  this  very  same 
table,  that  special  view  of  the  magnificent  marble 
hall  —  known  as  the  Norfolk  Street  branch  of  the 
Aerated  Bread  Company's  depots  —  were  Polly's 
own  corner,  table,  and  view.  Here  she  had  par- 
taken of  eleven  pennyworth  of  luncheon  and  one 
pennyworth  of  daily  information  ever  since  that 
glorious  never-to-be-forgotten  day  when  she  was 
enrolled  on  the  staff  of  the  Evening  Observer. 


2  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

(we'll  call  it  that,  if  you  please),  and  became  a 
member  of  that  illustrious  and  world-famed  or- 
ganisation known  as  the  British  Press. 

She  was  a  personality,  was  Miss  Burton  of  the 
Evening  Observer.    Her  cards  were  printed  thus : 


MISS    MARY   J.  BURTON 
Evening  Observer. 


She  had  interviewed  Miss  Ellen  Terry  and  the 
Bishop  of  Madagascar,  Mr.  Seymour  Hicks  and 
the  Chief  Commissioner  of  Police.  She  had  been 
present  at  the  last  Marlborough  House  garden 
party — in  the  cloak-room,  that  is  to  say,  where 
she  caught  sight  of  Lady  Thingummy's  hat,  Miss 
What-you-may-call's  sunshade,  and  of  various 
other  things  'modistical  or  fashionable,  all  of 
which  were  duly  described  under  the  heading 
"  Royalty  and  Dress  "  in  the  early  afternoon  edi- 
tion of  the  Evening  Observer. 

(The  article  itself  is  signed  M.  J.  B.,  and  is  to 
be  found  in  the  files  of  that  leading  halfpenny- 
worth.) 

For  these  reasons — and  for  various  others,  too 
— Polly  felt  irate  with  the  man  in  the  corner, 
and  told  him  so  with  her  eyes,  as  plainly  as  any 
pair  of  brown  eyes  can  speak. 

She  had  been  reading  an  article  in  the  Daily 


FENCHURCH    STREET    MYSTERY         3 

Telegraph.  The  article  was  palpitatingly  inter- 
esting. Had  Polly  been  commenting  audibly  upon 
it?  Certain  it  is  that  the  man  over  there  had 
spoken  in  direct  answer  to  her  thoughts. 

She  looked  at  him  and  frowned;  the  next  mo- 
ment she  smiled.  Miss  Burton  (of  the  Evening 
Observer)  had  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  which  two 
years'  association  with  the  British  Press  had  not 
succeeded  in  destroying,  and  the  appearance  of 
the  man  was  sufficient  to  tickle  the  most  ultra- 
morose  fancy.  Polly  thought  to  herself  that  she 
had  never  seen  anyone  so  pale,  so  thin,  with  such 
funny  light-coloured  hair,  brushed  very  smoothly 
across  the  top  of  a  very  obviously  bald  crown. 
He  looked  so  timid  and  nervous  as  he  fidgeted 
incessantly  with  a  piece  of  string;  his  long,  lean, 
and  trembling  fingers  tying  and  untying  it  into 
knots  of  wonderful  and  complicated  proportions. 

Having  carefully  studied  every  detail  of  the 
quaint  personality  Polly  felt  more  amiable. 

"  And  yet,"  she  remarked  kindly  but  authori- 
tatively, "this  article,  in  an  otherwise  well-in- 
formed journal,  will  tell  you  that,  even  within 
the  last  year,  no  fewer  than  six  crimes  have  com- 
pletely baffled  the  police,  and  the  perpetrators  of 
them  are  still  at  large." 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  never  for  a 
moment  ventured  to  suggest  that  there  were  no 
mysteries  to  the  police;  I  merely  remarked  that 
there  were  none  where  intelligence  was  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  investigation  of  crime." 


4  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

"  Not  even  in  the  Fenchurch  Street  mystery,  I 
suppose,"  she  asked  sarcastically. 

"  Least  of  all  in  the  so-called  Fenchurch  Street 
mystery,"  he  replied  quietly. 

Now  the  Fenchurch  Street  mystery,  as  that 
extraordinary  crime  had  popularly  been  called, 
had  puzzled — as  Polly  well  knew — the  brains  of 
every  thinking  man  and  woman  for  the  last 
twelve  months.  It  had  puzzled  her  not  incon- 
siderably; she  had  been  interested,  fascinated; 
she  had  studied  the  case,  formed  her  own  theories, 
thought  about  it  all  often  and  often,  had  even 
written  one  or  two  letters  to  the  Press  on  the 
subject — suggesting,  arguing,  hinting  at  possibili- 
ties and  probabilities,  adducing  proofs  which  other 
amateur  detectives  were  equally  ready  to  refute. 
The  attitude  of  that  timid  man  in  the  corner, 
therefore,  was  peculiarly  exasperating,  and  she 
retorted  with  sarcasm  destined  to  completely 
annihilate  her  self-complacent  interlocutor. 

14  What  a  pity  it  is,  in  that  case,  that  you  do 
not  offer  your  priceless  services  to  our  misguided 
though  well-meaning  police." 

"Isn't  it?"  he  replied  with  perfect  good- 
humour.  "Well,  you  know,  for  one  thing  I 
doubt  if  they  would  accept  them;  and  in  the 
second  place  my  inclinations  and  my  duty  would 
— were  I  to  become  an  active  member  of  the 
detective  force — nearly  always  be  in  direct  con- 
flict. As  often  as  not  my  sympathies  go  to  the 


FENCHURCH    STREET    MYSTERY         5 

criminal  who  is  clever  and  astute  enough  to  lead 
our  entire  police  force  by  the  nose. 

"  I  don't  know  how  much  of  the  case  you  re- 
member," he  went  on  quietly.  "  It  certainly,  at 
first,  began  even  to  puzzle  me.  On  the  I2th  of 
last  December  a  woman,  poorly  dressed,  but  with 
an  unmistakable  air  of  having  seen  better  days, 
gave  information  at  Scotland  Yard  of  the  disap- 
pearance of  her  husband,  William  Kershaw,  of 
no  occupation,  and  apparently  of  no  fixed  abode. 
She  was  accompanied  by  a  friend — a  fat,  oily- 
looking  German — and  between  them  they  told  a 
tale  which  set  the  police  immediately  on  the  move. 

"It  appears  that  on  the  loth  of  December,  at 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Karl  Miiller, 
the  German,  called  on  his  friend,  William  Ker- 
shaw, for  the  purpose  of  collecting  a  small  debt — 
some  ten  pounds  or  so — which  the  latter  owed 
him.  On  arriving  at  the  squalid  lodging  in 
Charlotte  Street,  Fitzroy  Square,  he  found  Wil- 
liam Kershaw  in  a  wild  state  of  excitement,  and 
his  wife  in  tears.  Muller  attempted  to  state  the 
object  of  his  visit,  but  Kershaw,  with  wild  ges- 
tures, waived  him  aside,  and — in  his  own  words — 
flabbergasted  him  by  asking  him  point-blank  for 
another  loan  of  two  pounds,  which  sum,  he  de- 
clared, would  be  the  means  of  a  speedy  fortune 
for  himself  and  the  friend  who  would  help  him  in 
his  need. 

"  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  spent  in  obscure 


6  THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

hints,  Kershaw,  finding  the  cautious  German 
obdurate,  decided  to  let  him  into  the  secret  plan, 
which,  he  averred,  would  place  thousands  into 
their  hands." 

Instinctively  Polly  had  put  down  her  paper; 
the  mild  stranger,  with  his  nervous  air  and  timid, 
watery  eyes,  had  a  peculiar  way  of  telling  his  tale, 
which  somehow  fascinated  her. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  resumed,  "  if  you  remem- 
ber the  story  which  the  German  told  to  the  police, 
and  which  was  corroborated  in  every  detail  by  the 
wife  or  widow.  Briefly  it  was  this :  Some  thirty 
years  previously,  Kershaw,  then  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  a  medical  student  at  one  of  the  London 
hospitals,  had  a  chum  named  Barker,  with  whom 
he  roomed,  together  with  another. 

"The  latter,  so  it  appears,  brought  home  one 
evening  a  very  considerable  sum  of  money,  which 
he  had  won  on  the  turf,  and  the  following  morn- 
ing he  was  found  murdered  in  his  bed.  Kershaw, 
fortunately  for  himself,  was  able  to  prove  a  con- 
clusive alibi;  he  had  spent  the  night  on  duty  at 
the  hospital;  as  for  Barker,  he  had  disappeared, 
that  is  to  say,  as  far  as  the  police  were  concerned, 
but  not  as  far  as  the  watchful  eyes  of  his  friend 
Kershaw  were  able  to  spy — at  least,  so  the  latter 
said.  Barker  very  cleverly  contrived  to  get  away 
out  of  the  country,  and,  after  sundry  vicissitudes, 
finally  settled  down  at  Vladivostock,  in  Eastern 


FENCHURCH  STREET  MYSTERY    7 

Siberia,  where,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Smet- 
hurst,  he  built  up  an  enormous  fortune  by  trading 
in  furs. 

"  Now,  mind  you,  every  one  knows  Smethurst, 
the  Siberian  millionaire.  Kershaw's  story  that  he 
had  once  been  called  Barker,  and  had  committed 
a  murder  thirty  years  ago  was  never  proved,  was 
it?  I  am  merely  telling  you  what  Kershaw  said 
to  his  friend  the  German  and  to  his  wife  on  that 
memorable  afternoon  of  December  the  loth. 

"  According  to  him  Smethurst  had  made  one 
gigantic  mistake  in  his  clever  career — he  had  on 
four  occasions  written  to  his  late  friend,  William 
Kershaw.  Two  of  these  letters  had  no  bearing 
on  the  case,  since  they  were  written  more  than 
twenty-five  years  ago,  and  Kershaw,  moreover, 
had  lost  them — so  he  said — long  ago.  Accord- 
ing to  him,  however,  the  first  of  these  letters  was 
written  when  Smethurst,  alias  Barker,  had  spent 
all  the  money  he  had  obtained  from  the  crime, 
and  found  himself  destitute  in  New  York. 

"  Kershaw,  then  in  fairly  prosperous  circum- 
stances, sent  him  a  £10  note  for  the  sake  of  old 
times.  The  second,  when  the  tables  had  turned, 
and  Kershaw  had  begun  to  go  downhill,  Smet- 
hurst, as  he  then  already  called  himself,  sent  his 
whilom  friend  £50.  After  that,  as  Miiller  gath- 
ered, Kershaw  had  made  sundry  demands  on 
Smathurst's  ever-increasing  purse,  and  had  ac- 


8  THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

companied  these  demands  by  various  threats, 
which,  considering  the  distant  country  in  which 
the  millionaire  lived,  were  worse  than  futile. 

"  But  now  the  climax  had  come,  and  Kershaw, 
after  a  final  moment  of  hesitation,  handed  over  to 
his  German  friend  the  two  last  letters  purporting 
to  have  been  written  by  Smethurst,  and  which,  if 
you  remember,  played  such  an  important  part  in 
the  mysterious  story  of  this  extraordinary  crime. 
I  have  a  copy  of  both  these  letters  here,"  added 
the  man  in  the  corner,  as  he  took  out  a  piece  of 
paper  from  a  very  worn-out  pocket-book,  and,  un- 
folding it  very  deliberately,  he  began  to  read: — 

" '  SIR, — Your  preposterous  demands  for  money  are  wholly 
unwarrantable.  I  have  already  helped  you  quite  as  much  as 
you  deserve.  However,  for  the  sake  of  old  times,  and  because 
you  once  helped  me  when  I  was  in  a  terrible  difficulty,  I  am 
willing  to  once  more  let  you  impose  upon  my  good  nature.  A 
friend  of  mine  here,  a  Russian  merchant,  to  whom  I  have 
sold  my  business,  starts  in  a  few  days  for  an  extended  tour  to 
many  European  and  Asiatic  ports  in  his  yacht,  and  has  in- 
vited me  to  accompany  him  as  far  as  England.  Being  tired  of 
foreign  parts,  and  desirous  of  seeing  the  old  country  once  again 
after  thirty  years'  absence,  I  have  decided  to  accept  his  in- 
vitation. I  don't  know  when  we  may  actually  be  in  Europe, 
but  I  promise  you  that  as  soon  as  we  touch  a  suitable  port  I 
will  write  to  you  again,  making  an  appointment  for  you  to  see 
me  in  London.  But  remember  that  if  your  demands  are  too 
preposterous  I  will  not  for  a  moment  listen  to  them,  and  that 
I  am  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  submit  to  persistent  and  un- 
warrantable blackmail. 

"  '  I  am,  sir,   , 

" '  Yours  truly, 

'"FRANCIS  SMETHURST.' 


FENCHURCH    STREET   MYSTERY         9 

"  The  second  letter  was  dated  from  South- 
ampton," continued  the  man  in  the  corner 
calmly,  "and,  curiously  enough,  was  the  only  let- 
ter which  Kershaw  professed  to  have  received 
from  Smethurst  of  which  he  had  kept  the  en- 
velope, and  which  was  dated.  It  was  quite 
brief,"  he  added,  referring  once  more  to  his  piece 
of  paper. 

"'DEAR  SIR, — Referring  to  my  letter  of  a  few  weeks  ago,  I 
wish  to  inform  you  that  the  Tsarskoe  Selo  will  touch  at  Til- 
bury on  Tuesday  next,  the  loth.  I  shall  land  there,  and  im- 
mediately go  up  to  London  by  the  first  train  I  can  get.  If  you 
like,  you  may  meet  me  at  Fenchurch  Street  Station,  in  the  first- 
class  waiting-room,  in  the  late  afternoon.  Since  I  surmise  that 
after  thirty  years'  absence  my  face  may  not  be  familiar  to 
you,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  you  will  recognize  me  by  a 
heavy  Astrakhan  fur  coat,  which  I  shall  wear,  together  with 
a  cap  of  the  same.  You  may  then  introduce  yourself  to  me, 
and  I  will  personally  listen  to  what  you  may  have  to  say. 
"'Yours  faithfully, 

" '  FRANCIS  SMETHURST.' 

"  It  was  this  last  letter  which  had  caused 
William  Kershaw's  excitement  and  his  wife's 
tears.  In  the  German's  own  words,  he  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  room  like  a  wild  beast,  gestic- 
ulating wildly,  and  muttering  sundry  exclama- 
tions. Mrs.  Kershaw,  however,  was  full  of  ap- 
prehension. She  mistrusted  the  man  from  for- 
eign parts — who,  according  to  her  husband's 
story,  had  already  one  crime  upon  his  conscience 
— who  might,  she  feared,  risk  another,  in  order 


io          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

to  be  rid  of  a  dangerous  enemy.  Woman-like, 
she  thought  the  scheme  a  dishonourable  one,  for 
the  law,  she  knew,  is  severe  on  the  blackmailer. 

"The  assignation  might  be  a  cunning  trap,  in 
any  case  it  was  a  curious  one;  why,  she  argued, 
did  not  Smethurst  elect  to  see  Kershaw  at  his 
hotel  the  following  day?  A  thousand  whys  and 
wherefores  made  her  anxious,  but  the  fat  German 
had  been  won  over  by  Kershaw's  visions  of  untold 
gold,  held  tantalisingly  before  his  eyes.  He  had 
lent  the  necessary  £2,  with  which  his  friend  in- 
tended to  tidy  himself  up  aHbit  before  he  went  to 
meet  his  friend  the  millionaire.  Half  an  hour 
afterwards  Kershaw  had  left  his  lodgings,  and 
that  was  the  last  the  unfortunate  woman  saw  of 
her  husband,  or  Miiller,  the  German,  of  his 
friend. 

"Anxiously  his  wife  waited  that  night,  but  he 
did  not  return;  the  next  day  she  seems  to  have 
spent  in  making  purposeless  and  futile  inquiries 
about  the  neighbourhood  of  Fenchurch  Street ;  and 
on  the  1 2th  she  went  to  Scotland  Yard,  gave  what 
particulars  she  knew,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of 
the  police  the  two  letters  written  by  Smethurst." 


CHAPTER   II 

A   MILLIONAIRE  IN  THE  DOCK 

THE  man  in  the  corner  had  finished  his  glass 
of  milk.  His  watery  blue  eyes  looked  across  at 
Miss  Polly  Burton's  eager  little  face,  from  which 
all  traces  of  severity  had  now  been  chased  away 
by  an  obvious  and  intense  excitement. 

"It  was  only  on  the  3ist,"  he  resumed  after 
a  while,  "that  a  body,  decomposed  past  all 
recognition,  was  found  by  two  lightermen  in  the 
bottom  of  a  disused  barge.  She  had  been  moored 
at  one  time  at  the  foot  of  one  of  those  dark 
flights  of  steps  which  lead  down  between  tall 
warehouses  to  the  river  in  the  East  End  of  Lon- 
don. I  have  a  photograph  of  the  place  here,"  he 
added,  selecting  one  out  of  his  pocket,  and  plac- 
ing it  before  Polly. 

;<  The  actual  barge,  you  see,  had  already  been 
removed  when  I  took  this  snapshot,  but  you  will 
realise  what  a  perfect  place  this  alley  is  for  the 
purpose  of  one  man  cutting  another's  throat  in 
comfort,  and  without  fear  of  detection.  The 
body,  as  I  said,  was  decomposed  beyond  all 
recognition;  it  had  probably  been  there  eleven 
days,  but  sundry  articles,  such  as  a  silver  ring  and 

ii 


12          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

a  tie  pin,  were  recognisable,  and  were  identified 
by  Mrs.  Kershaw  as  belonging  to  her  husband. 

"  She,  of  course,  was  loud  in  denouncing  Smet- 
hurst,  and  the  police  had  no  doubt  a  very  strong 
case  against  him,  for  two  days  after  the  discovery 
of  the  body  in  the  barge,  the  Siberian  millionaire, 
as  he  was  already  popularly  called  by  enterprising 
interviewers,  was  arrested  in  his  luxurious  suite  of 
rooms  at  the  Hotel  Cecil. 

"To  confess  the  truth,  at  this  point  I  was  not 
a  little  puzzled.  Mrs.  Kershaw's  story  and 
Smethurst's  letters  had  both  found  their  way  into 
the  papers,  and  following  my  usual  method — 
mind  you,  I  am  only  an  amateur,  I  try  to  reason 
out  a  case  for  the  love  of  the  thing — I  sought 
about  for  a  motive  for  the  crime,  which  the  police 
declared  Smethurst  had  committed.  To  effectu- 
ally get  rid  of  a  dangerous  blackmailer  was 
the  generally  accepted  theory.  Well !  did  it 
ever  strike  you  how  paltry  that  motive  really 
was?" 

Miss  Polly  had  to  confess,  however,  that  it  had 
never  struck  her  in  that  light. 

"  Surely  a  man  who  had  succeeded  in  building 
up  an  immense  fortune  by  his  own  individual 
efforts,  was  not  the  sort  of  fool  to  believe  that 
he  had  anything  to  fear  from  a  man  like  Ker- 
shaw. He  must  have  known  that  Kershaw  held 
no  damning  proofs  against  him — not  enough  to 
hang  him,  anyway.  Have  you  ever  seen  Smet- 


A   MILLIONAIRE   IN   THE    DOCK       13 

hurst?"  he  added,  as  he  once  more  fumbled  in  his 
pocket-book. 

Polly  replied  that  she  had  seen  Smethurst's  pic- 
ture in  the  illustrated  papers  at  the  time.  Then 
he  added,  placing  a  small  photograph  before  her: 

"What  strikes  you  most  about  the  face?" 

"Well,  I  think  its  strange,  astonished  expres- 
sion, due  to  the  total  absence  of  eyebrows,  and 
the  funny  foreign  cut  of  the  hair." 

"  So  close  that  it  almost  looks  as  if  it  had  been 
shaved.  Exactly.  That  is  what  struck  me  most 
when  I  elbowed  my  way  into  the  court  that  morn- 
ing and  first  caught  sight  of  the  millionaire  in 
the  dock.  He  was  a  tall,  soldierly-looking  man, 
upright  in  stature,  his  face  very  bronzed  and 
tanned.  He  wore  neither  moustache  nor  beard, 
his  hair  was  cropped  quite  close  to  his  head,  like 
a  Frenchman's;  but,  of  course,  what  was  so  very 
remarkable  about  him  was  that  total  absence  of 
eyebrows  and  even  eyelashes,  which  gave  the  face 
such  a  peculiar  appearance — as  you  say,  a  per- 
petually astonished  look. 

"He  seemed,  however,  wonderfully  calm;  he 
had  been  accommodated  with  a  chair  in  the  dock 
— being  a  millionaire — and  chatted  pleasantly 
with  his  lawyer,  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood,  in  the  in- 
tervals between  the  calling  of  the  several  witnesses 
for  the  prosecution ;  whilst  during  the  examination 
of  these  witnesses  he  sat  quite  placidly,  with  his 
head  shaded  by  his  hand. 


14          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Muller  and  Mrs.  Kershaw  repeated  the  story 
which  they  had  already  told  to  the  police.  I  think 
you  said  that  you  were  not  able,  owing  to  pres- 
sure of  work,  to  go  to  the  court  that  day,  and 
hear  the  case,  so  perhaps  you  have  no  recollec- 
tion of  Mrs.  Kershaw.  No?  Ah,  well!  Here 
is  a  snapshot  I  managed  to  get  of  her  once.  That 
is  her.  Exactly  as  she  stood  in  the  box — over- 
dressed— in  elaborate  crape,  with  a  bonnet  which 
once  had  contained  pink  roses,  and  to  which  a 
remnant  of  pink  petals  still  clung  obtrusively 
amidst  the  deep  black. 

"  She  would  not  look  at  the  prisoner,  and 
turned  her  head  resolutely  towards  the  magis- 
trate. I  fancy  she  had  been  fond  of  that  vaga- 
bond husband  of  hers:  an  enormous  wedding- 
ring  encircled  her  finger,  and  that,  too,  was 
swathed  in  black.  She  firmly  believed  that  Ker- 
shaw's  murderer  sat  there  in  the  dock,  and  she 
literally  flaunted  her  grief  before  him. 

"  I  was  indescribably  sorry  for  her.  As  for 
Muller,  he  was  just  fat,  oily,  pompous,  conscious 
of  his  own  importance  as  a  witness;  his  fat  fingers, 
covered  with  brass  rings,  gripped  the  two  incrim- 
inating letters,  which  he  had  identified.  They 
were  his  passports,  as  it  were,  to  a  delightful  land 
of  importance  and  notoriety.  Sir  Arthur  Ingle- 
wood,  I  think,  disappointed  him  by  stating  that 
he  had  no  questions  to  ask  of  him.  Muller  had 
been  brimful  of  answers,  ready  with  the  most  per- 


A    MILLIONAIRE    IN    THE    DOCK        15 

feet  indictment,  the  most  elaborate  accusations 
against  the  bloated  millionaire  who  had  destroyed 
his  dear  friend  Kershaw,  and  murdered  him  in 
Heaven  knows  what  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of 
the  East  End. 

"After  this,  however,  the  excitement  grew 
apace.  Miiller  had  been  dismissed,  and  had  re- 
tired from  the  court  altogether,  leading  away 
Mrs.  Kershaw,  who  had  completely  broken  down. 

"  Constable  D  21  was  giving  evidence  as  to  the 
arrest  in  the  meanwhile.  The  prisoner,  he  said, 
had  seemed  completely  taken  by  surprise,  not  un- 
derstanding the  cause  or  history  of  the  accusation 
against  him ;  however,  when  put  in  full  possession 
of  the  facts,  and  realising,  no  doubt,  the  absolute 
futility  of  any  resistance,  he  had  quietly  enough 
followed  the  constable  into  the  cab.  No  one  at 
the  fashionable  and  crowded  Hotel  Cecil  had  even 
suspected  that  anything  unusual  had  occurred. 

"Then  a  gigantic  sigh  of  expectancy  came 
from  every  one  of  the  spectators.  The  '  fun  '  was 
about  to  begin.  James  Buckland,  a  porter  at 
Fenchurch  Street  railway  station,  had  just  sworn 
to  tell  all  the  truth,  etc.  After  all,  it  did  not 
amount  to  much.  He  said  that  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  December  the  loth,  in  the  midst 
of  one  of  the  densest  fogs  he  ever  remembers,  the 
5.5  from  Tilbury  steamed  into  the  station,  being 
just  about  an  hour  late.  He  was  on  the  arrival 
platform,  and  was  hailed  by  a  passenger  in  a  first- 


16          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

class  carriage.  He  could  see  very  little  of  him  be- 
yond an  enormous  black  fur  coat  and  a  travelling 
cap  of  fur  also. 

"  The  passenger  had  a  quantity  of  luggage,  all 
marked  F.  S.,  and  he  directed  James  Buckland  to 
place  it  all  upon  a  four-wheeled  cab,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  small  hand-bag,  which  he  carried 
himself.  Having  seen  that  all  his  luggage  was 
safely  bestowed,  the  stranger  in  the  fur  coat  paid 
the  porter,  and,  telling  the  cabman  to  wait  until 
he  returned,  he  walked  away  in  the  direction  of 
the  waiting-rooms,  still  carrying  his  small  hand- 
bag. 

*  I  stayed  for  a  bit,*  added  James  Buckland, 
'talking  to  the  driver  about  the  fog  and  that; 
then  I  went  about  my  business,  seein'  that  the 
local  from  Southend  'ad  been  signalled.' 

"  The  prosecution  insisted  most  strongly  upon 
the  hour  when  the  stranger  in  the  fur  coat,  hav- 
ing seen  to  his  luggage,  walked  away  towards  the 
waiting-rooms.  The  porter  was  emphatic.  '  It 
was  not  a  minute  later  than  6.15,'  he  averred. 

"  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood  still  had  no  questions 
to  ask,  and  the  driver  of  the  cab  was  called. 

"  He  corroborated  the  evidence  of  James  Buck- 
land  as  to  the  hour  when  the  gentleman  in  the  fur 
coat  had  engaged  him,  and  having  filled  his  cab 
in  and  out  with  luggage,  had  told  him  to  wait. 
And  cabby  did  wait.  He  waited  in  the  dense  fog 
— until  he  was  tired,  until  he  seriously  thought  of 


A   MILLIONAIRE   IN   THE    DOCK       17 

depositing  all  the  luggage  in  the  lost  property 
office,  and  of  looking  out  for  another  fare — 
waited  until  at  last,  at  a  quarter  before  nine, 
whom  should  he  see  walking  hurriedly  towards  his 
cab  but  the  gentleman  in  the  fur  coat  and  cap, 
who  got  in  quickly  and  told  the  driver  to  take 
him  at  once  to  the  Hotel  Cecil.  This,  cabby  de- 
clared, had  occurred  at  a  quarter  before  nine. 
Still  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood  made  no  comment,  and 
Mr.  Francis  Smethurst,  in  the  crowded,  stuffy 
court,  had  calmly  dropped  to  sleep. 

"The  next  witness,  Constable  Thomas  Taylor, 
had  noticed  a  shabbily-dressed  individual,  with 
shaggy  hair  and  beard,  loafing  about  the  station 
and  waiting-rooms  in  the  afternoon  of  December 
the  loth.  He  seemed  to  be  watching  the  arrival 
platform  of  the  Tilbury  and  Southend  trains. 

"Two  separate  and  independent  witnesses, 
cleverly  unearthed  by  the  police,  had  seen  this 
same  shabbily-dressed  individual  stroll  into  the 
first-class  waiting-room  at  about  6.15  on  Tues- 
day, December  the  loth,  and  go  straight  up 
to  a  gentleman  in  a  heavy  fur  coat  and  cap,  who 
had  also  just  come  into  the  room.  The  two 
talked  together  for  a  while;  no  one  heard  what 
they  said,  but  presently  they  walked  off  together. 
No  one  seemed  to  know  in  which  direction. 

"  Francis  Smethurst  was  rousing  himself  from 
his  apathy;  he  whispered  to  his  lawyer,  who 
nodded  with  a  bland  smile  of  encouragement. 


i8  THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

The  employes  of  the  Hotel  Cecil  gave  evidence 
as  to  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Smethurst  at  about  9  130 
p.  m.  on  Tuesday,  December  the  loth,  in  a 
cab,  with  a  quantity  of  luggage;  and  this  closed 
the  case  for  the  prosecution. 

"  Everybody  in  that  court  already  saw  Smet- 
hurst mounting  the  gallows.  It  was  uninterested 
curiosity  which  caused  the  elegant  audience  to 
wait  and  hear  what  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood  had  to 
say.  He,  of  course,  is  the  most  fashionable  man 
in  the  law  at  the  present  moment.  His  lolling 
attitudes,  his  drawling  speech,  are  quite  the  rage, 
and  imitated  by  the  gilded  youth  of  society. 

"  Even  at  this  moment,  when  the  Siberian  mil- 
lionaire's neck  literally  and  metaphorically  hung 
in  the  balance,  an  expectant  titter  went  round  the 
fair  spectators  as  Sir  Arthur  stretched  out  his  long 
loose  limbs  and  lounged  across  the  table.  He 
waited  to  make  his  effect — Sir  Arthur  is  a  born 
actor — and  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  made  it, 
when  in  his  slowest,  most  drawly  tones  he  said 
quietly : 

"  *  With  regard  to  this  alleged  murder  of  one 
William  Kershaw,  on  Wednesday,  December  the 
loth,  between  6.15  and  8.45  p.  m.,  your  Honour, 
I  now  propose  to  call  two  witnesses,  who  saw  this 
same  William  Kershaw  alive  on  Tuesday  after- 
noon, December  the  i6th,  that  is  to  say,  six  days 
after  the  supposed  murder.' 

"  It  was  as  if  a  bombshell  had  exploded  in  the 


A   MILLIONAIRE   IN   THE    DOCK       19 

court.  Even  his  Honour  was  aghast,  and  I  am 
sure  the  lady  next  to  me  only  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  surprise  in  order  to  wonder  whether  she 
need  put  off  her  dinner  party  after  all. 

"As  for  me,"  added  the  man  in  the  corner, 
with  that  strange  mixture  of  nervousness  and  self- 
complacency  which  had  set  Miss  Polly  Burton 
wondering,  "well,  you  see,  /  had  made  up  my 
mind  long  ago  where  the  hitch  lay  in  this  par- 
ticular case,  and  I  was  not  so  surprised  as  some 
of  the  others. 

"  Perhaps  you  remember  the  wonderful  de- 
velopment of  the  case,  which  so  completely 
mystified  the  police — and  in  fact  everybody  ex- 
cept myself.  Torriani  and  a  waiter  at  his  hotel 
in  the  Commercial  Road  both  deposed  that  at 
about  3.30  p.  m.  on  December  the  loth  a  shab- 
bily-dressed individual  lolled  into  the  coffee-room 
and  ordered  some  tea.  He  was  pleasant  enough 
and  talkative,  told  the  waiter  that  his  name  was 
William  Kershaw,  that  very  soon  all  London 
would  be  talking  about  him,  as  he  was  about, 
through  an  unexpected  stroke  of  good  fortune,  to 
become  a  very  rich  man,  and  so  on,  and  so  on, 
nonsense  without  end. 

"  When  he  had  finished  his  tea  he  lolled  out 
again,  but  no  sooner  had  he  disappeared  down 
a  turning  of  the  road  than  the  waiter  discovered 
an  old  umbrella,  left  behind  accidentally  by  the 
shabby,  talkative  individual.  As  is  the  custom  in 


20 

his  highly  respectable  restaurant,  Signer  Torriani 
put  the  umbrella  carefully  away  in  his  office,  on 
the  chance  of  his  customer  calling  to  claim  it  when 
he  discovered  his  loss.  And  sure  enough  nearly  a 
week  later,  on  Tuesday,  the  i6th,  at  about  I  p.  m., 
the  same  shabbily-dressed  individual  called  and 
asked  for  his  umbrella.  He  had  some  lunch, 
and  chatted  once  again  to  the  waiter.  Signer 
Torriani  and  the  waiter  gave  a  description  of 
William  Kershaw,  which  coincided  exactly  with 
that  given  by  Mrs.  Kershaw  of  her  husband. 

"  Oddly  enough  he  seemed  to  be  a  very  absent- 
minded  sort  of  person,  for  on  this  second  occa- 
sion, no  sooner  had  he  left  than  the  waiter  found 
a  pocket-book  in  the  coffee-room,  underneath  the 
table.  It  contained  sundry  letters  and  bills,  all 
addressed  to  William  Kershaw.  This  pocket- 
book  was  produced,  and  Karl  Miiller,  who  had 
returned  to  the  court,  easily  identified  it  as  hav- 
ing belonged  to  his  dear  and  lamented  friend 
'Viffiam.' 

;<  This  was  the  first  blow  to  the  case  against 
the  accused.  It  was  a  pretty  stiff  one,  you  will 
admit.  Already  it  had  begun  to  collapse  like  a 
house  of  cards.  Still,  there  was  the  assignation, 
and  the  undisputed  meeting  between  Smethurst 
and  Kershaw,  and  those  two  and  a  half  hours  of  a 
foggy  evening  to  satisfactorily  account  for." 

The  man  in  the  corner  made  a  long  pause, 
keeping  the  girl  on  tenterhooks.  He  had  fidgeted 


A   MILLIONAIRE    IN   THE   DOCK       21 

with  his  bit  of  string  till  there  was  not  an  inch 
of  it  free  from  the  most  complicated  and  elabor- 
ate knots. 

"  I  assure  you,"  he  resumed  at  last,  "  that  at 
that  very  moment  the  whole  mystery  was,  to  me, 
as  clear  as  daylight.  I  only  marvelled  how  his 
Honour  could  waste  his  time  and  mine  by  putting 
what  he  thought  were  searching  questions  to  the 
accused  relating  to  his  past.  Francis  Smethurst, 
who  had  quite  shaken  off  his  somnolence,  spoke 
with  a  curious  nasal  twang,  and  with  an  almost 
imperceptible  soup^on  of  foreign  accent.  He 
calmly  denied  Kershaw's  version  of  his  past; 
declared  that  he  had  never  been  called  Barker, 
and  had  certainly  never  been  mixed  up  in  any 
murder  case  thirty  years  ago. 

'  But  you  knew  this  man  Kershaw,'  persisted 
his  Honour,  *  since  you  wrote  to  him? ' 

'  Pardon  me,  your  Honour,'  said  the  accused 
quietly,  *  I  have  never,  to  my  knowledge,  seen 
this  man  Kershaw,  and  I  can  swear  that  I  never 
wrote  to  him.' 

4  Never  wrote  to  him  ? '  retorted  his  Honour 
warningly.  '  That  is  a  strange  assertion  to  make 
when  I  have  two  of  your  letters  to  him  in  my 
hands  at  the  present  moment.' 

'  I  never  wrote  those  letters,  your  Honour,' 
persisted  the  accused  quietly,  *  they  are  not  in  my 
handwriting.' 

"  *  Which  we  can  easily  prove,'   came  in  Sir 


22          THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

Arthur  Inglewood's  drawly  tones,  as  he  handed  up 
a  packet  to  his  Honour,  '  here  are  a  number  of 
letters  written  by  my  client  since  he  has  landed  in 
this  country,  and  some  of  which  were  written  un- 
der my  very  eyes.' 

"As  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood  had  said,  this  could 
be  easily  proved,  and  the  prisoner,  at  his  Honour's 
request,  scribbled  a  few  lines,  together  with  his 
signature,  several  times  upon  a  sheet  of  note-paper. 
It  was  easy  to  read  upon  the  magistrate's  as- 
tounded countenance,  that  there  was  not  the  slight- 
est similarity  in  the  two  handwritings. 

"  A  fresh  mystery  had  cropped  up.  Who,  then, 
had  made  the  assignation  with  William  Kershaw 
at  Fenchurch  Street  railway  station?  The  pris- 
oner gave  a  fairly  satisfactory  account  of  the  em- 
ployment of  his  time  since  his  landing  in  England. 

"  *  I  came  over  on  the  Tsarkoe  Selo,'  he  said, 
*  a  yacht  belonging  to  a  friend  of  mine.  When 
we  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Thames  there 
was  such  a  dense  fog  that  it  was  twenty-four 
hours  before  it  was  thought  safe  for  me  to  land. 
My  friend,  who  is  a  Russian,  would  not  land  at 
all;  he  was  regularly  frightened  at  this  land  of 
fogs.  He  was  going  on  to  Madeira  immediately. 

"  '  I  actually  landed  on  Tuesday,  the  loth,  and 
took  a  train  at  once  for  town.  I  did  see  to  my 
luggage  and  a  cab,  as  the  porter  and  driver  told 
your  Honour;  then  I  tried  to  find  my  way  to  a 
refreshment-room,  where  I  could  get  a  glass  of 


A   MILLIONAIRE    IN    THE    DOCK       23 

wine.  I  drifted  into  the  waiting-room,  and  there 
I  was  accosted  by  a  shabbily-dressed  individual, 
who  began  telling  me  a  piteous  tale.  Who  he  was 
I  do  not  know.  He  said  he  was  an  old  soldier 
who  had  served  his  country  faithfully,  and  then 
been  left  to  starve.  He  begged  of  me  to  accom- 
pany him  to  his  lodgings,  where  I  could  see  his 
wife  and  starving  children,  and  verify  the  truth 
and  piteousness  of  his  tale. 

" '  Well,  your  Honour,'  added  the  prisoner 
with  noble  frankness,  '  it  was  my  first  day  in  the 
old  country.  I  had  come  back  after  thirty  years 
with  my  pockets  full  of  gold,  and  this  was  the 
first  sad  tale  I  had  heard;  but  I  am  a  business 
man,  and  did  not  want  to  be  exactly  "  done  "  in 
the  eye.  I  followed  my  man  through  the  fog, 
out  into  the  streets.  He  walked  silently  by  my 
side  for  a  time.  I  had  not  a  notion  where  I  was. 
'  Suddenly  I  turned  to  him  with  some  question, 
and  realised  in  a  moment  that  my  gentleman  had 
given  me  the  slip.  Finding,  probably,  that  I 
would  not  part  with  my  money  till  I  had  seen  the 
starving  wife  and  children,  he  left  me  to  my  fate, 
and  went  in  search  of  more  willing  bait. 

'The  place  where  I  found  myself  was  dismal 
and  deserted.  I  could  see  no  trace  of  cab  or 
omnibus.  I  retraced  my  steps  and  tried  to  find 
my  way  back  to  the  station,  only  to  find  myself 
in  worse  and  more  deserted  neighbourhoods.  I 
became  hopelessly  lost  and  fogged.  I  don't 


24          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

wonder  that  two  and  a  half  hours  elapsed 
while  I  thus  wandered  on  in  the  dark  and  de- 
serted streets;  my  sole  astonishment  is  that  I  ever 
found  the  station  at  all  that  night,  or  rather  close 
to  it  a  policeman,  who  showed  me  the  way.' 

"  *  But  how  do  you  account  for  Kershaw  know- 
ing all  your  movements?  '  still  persisted  his  Hon- 
our, *  and  his  knowing  the  exact  date  of  your  ar- 
rival in  England?  How  do  you  account  for  these 
two  letters,  in  fact?' 

"  *  I  cannot  account  for  it  or  them,  your  Hon- 
our,' replied  the  prisoner  quietly.  '  I  have  proved 
to  you,  have  I  not,  that  I  never  wrote  those  let- 
ters, and  that  the  man — er — Kershaw  is  his  name  ? 
— was  not  murdered  by  me?' 

"  '  Can  you  tell  me  of  anyone  here  or  abroad 
who  might  have  heard  of  your  movements,  and 
of  the  date  of  your  arrival  ? ' 

1  My  late  employes  at  Vladivostock,  of  course, 
knew  of  my  departure,  but  none  of  them  could 
have  written  these  letters,  since  none  of  them 
know  a  word  of  English.' 

'  Then  you  can  throw  no  light  upon  these 
mysterious  letters?  You  cannot  help  the  police  in 
any  way  towards  the  clearing  up  of  this  strange 
affair?' 

'The  affair  is  as  mysterious  to  me  as  to  your 
Honour,  and  to  the  police  of  this  country.' 

"Francis  Smethurst  was  discharged,  of  course; 
there  was  no  semblance  of  evidence  against  him 


A   MILLIONAIRE   IN   THE   DOCK       25 

sufficient  to  commit  him  for  trial.  The  two  over- 
whelming points  of  his  defence  which  had  com- 
pletely routed  the  prosecution  were,  firstly,  the 
proof  that  he  had  never  written  the  letters  making 
the  assignation,  and  secondly,  the  fact  that  the 
man  supposed  to  have  been  murdered  on  the  loth 
was  seen  to  be  alive  and  well  on  the  i6th.  But 
then,  who  in  the  world  was  the  mysterious  indi- 
vidual who  had  apprised  Kershaw  of  the  move- 
ments of  Smethurst,  the  millionaire?" 


CHAPTER   III 

HIS  DEDUCTION 

THE  man  in  the  corner  cocked  his  funny  thin 
head  on  one  side  and  looked  at  Polly;  then  he 
took  up  his  beloved  bit  of  string  and  deliberately 
united  every  knot  he  had  made  in  it.  When  it 
was  quite  smooth  he  laid  it  out  upon  the  table. 

"I  will  take  you,  if  you  like,  point  by  point 
along  the  line  of  reasoning  which  I  followed  my- 
self, and  which  will  inevitably  lead  you,  as  it  led 
me,  to  the  only  possible  solution  of  the  mystery. 

"  First  take  this  point,"  he  said  with  nervous 
restlessness,  once  more  taking  up  his  bit  of  string, 
and  forming  with  each  point  raised  a  series  of 
knots  which  would  have  shamed  a  navigating  in- 
structor, "obviously  it  was  impossible  for  Ker- 
shaw  not  to  have  been  acquainted  with  Smethurst, 
since  he  was  fully  apprised  of  the  latter's  arrival 
in  England  by  two  letters.  Now  it  was  clear  to 
me  from  the  first  that  no  one  could  have  written 
those  two  letters  except  Smethurst.  You  will  ar- 
gue that  those  letters  were  proved  not  to  have 
been  written  by  the  man  in  the  dock.  Exactly. 
Remember,  Kershaw  was  a  careless  man — he  had 
lost  both  envelopes.  To  him  they  were  insignifi- 

26 


HIS    DEDUCTION  27 

cant.  Now  it  was  never  disproved  that  those  let- 
ters were  written  by  Smethurst." 

"  But- "  suggested  Polly. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  he  interrupted,  while  knot 
number  two  appeared  upon  the  scene;  "it  was 
proved  that  six  days  after  the  murder  William 
Kershaw  was  alive,  and  visited  the  Torriani 
Hotel,  where  already  he  was  known,  and  where 
he  conveniently  left  a  pocket-book  behind,  so  that 
there  should  be  no  mistake  as  to  his  identity;  but 
it  was  never  questioned  where  Mr.  Francis  Smet- 
hurst, the  millionaire,  happened  to  spend  that 
very  same  afternoon." 

"Surely,  you  don't  mean ?"  gasped  the 

girl. 

"  One  moment,  please,"  he  added  triumphantly. 
"  How  did  it  come  about  that  the  landlord  of  the 
Torriani  Hotel  was  brought  into  court  at  all? 
How  did  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood,  or  rather  his 
client,  know  that  William  Kershaw  had  on  those 
two  memorable  occasions  visited  the  hotel,  and 
that  its  landlord  could  bring  such  convincing  evi- 
dence forward  that  would  for  ever  exonerate  the 
millionaire  from  the  imputation  of  murder?" 

"  Surely,"  I  argued,  "  the  usual  means,  the 
police " 

'  The  police  had  kept  the  whole  affair  very 
dark  until  the  arrest  at  the  Hotel  Cecil.  They 
did  not  put  into  the  papers  the  usual :  '  If  anyone 
happens  to  know  of  the  whereabouts,  etc.,  etc.' 


28          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Had  the  landlord  of  that  hotel  heard  of  the  disap- 
pearance of  Kershaw  through  the  usual  channels, 
he  would  have  put  himself  in  communication  with 
the  police.  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood  produced  him. 
How  did  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood  come  on  his 
track?" 

"  Surely,  you  don't  mean ?  " 

"  Point  number  four,"  he  resumed  imperturb- 
ably,  "  Mrs.  Kershaw  was  never  requested  to  pro- 
duce a  specimen  of  her  husband's  handwriting. 
Why?  Because  the  police,  clever  as  you  say  they 
are,  never  started  on  the  right  tack.  They  be- 
lieved William  Kershaw  to  have  been  murdered; 
they  looked  for  William  Kershaw." 

"  On  December  the  3ist,  what  was  presumed  to 
be  the  body  of  William  Kershaw  was  found  by 
two  lightermen :  I  have  shown  you  a  photograph 
of  the  place  where  it  was  found.  Dark  and  de- 
serted it  is  in  all  conscience,  is  it  not?  Just  the 
place  where  a  bully  and  a  coward  would  decoy  an 
unsuspecting  stranger,  murder  him  first,  then  rob 
him  of  his  valuables,  his  papers,  his  very  identity, 
and  leave  him  there  to  rot.  The  body  was  found 
in  a  disused  barge  which  had  been  moored  some 
time  against  the  wall,  at  the  foot  of  these  steps. 
It  was  in  the  last  stages  of  decomposition,  and, 
of  course,  could  not  be  identified;  but  the  police 
would  have  it  that  it  was  the  body  of  William 
Kershaw. 

"  It  never  entered  their  heads  that  it  was  the 


HIS    DEDUCTION  29 

body  of  Francis  Smethurst,  and  that  William  Ker- 
sliaw  was  his  murderer. 

"Ah!  it  was  cleverly,  artistically  conceived! 
Kershaw  is  a  genius.  Think  of  it  all!  His  dis- 
guise! Kershaw  had  a  shaggy  beard,  hair,  and 
moustache.  He  shaved  up  to  his  very  eyebrows! 
No  wonder  that  even  his  wife  did  not  recognise 
him  across  the  court;  and  remember  she  never  saw 
much  of  his  face  while  he  stood  in  the  dock.  Ker- 
shaw was  shabby,  slouchy,  he  stooped.  Smethurst, 
the  millionaire,  might  have  served  in  the  Prussian 
Army. 

"Then  that  lovely  trait  about  going  to  revisit 
the  Torriani  Hotel.  Just  a  few  days'  grace,  in 
order  to  purchase  moustache  and  beard  and  wig, 
exactly  similar  to  what  he  had  himself  shaved  off. 
Making  up  to  look  like  himself!  Splendid!  Then 
leaving  the  pocket-book  behind!  He!  he!  he! 
Kershaw  was  not  murdered !  Of  course  not.  He 
called  at  the  Torriani  Hotel  six  days  after  the 
murder,  whilst  Mr.  Smethurst,  the  millionaire, 
hobnobbed  in  the  park  with  duchesses!  Hang 
such  a  man !  Fie !  " 

He  fumbled  for  his  hat.  With  nervous,  trem- 
bling fingers  he  held  it  deferentially  in  his  hand 
whilst  he  rose  from  the  table.  Polly  watched  him 
as  he  strode  up  to  the  desk,  and  paid  two-pence 
for  his  glass  of  milk  and  his  bun.  Soon  he  disap- 
peared through  the  shop,  whilst  she  still  found 
herself  hopelessly  bewildered,  with  a  number  of 


30          THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

snap-shot  photographs  before  her,  still  staring  at 
a  long  piece  of  string,  smothered  from  end  to  end 
in  a  series  of  knots,  as  bewildering,  as  irritating, 
as  puzzling  as  the  man  who  had  lately  sat  in  the 
corner. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  ROBBERY  IN  PHILLIMORE  TERRACE 

WHETHER  Miss  Polly  Burton  really  did  expect 
to  see  the  man  in  the  corner  that  Saturday  after- 
noon, 'twere  difficult  to  say;  certain  it  is  that  when 
she  found  her  way  to  the  table  close  by  the  window 
and  realised  that  he  was  not  there,  she  felt  con- 
scious of  an  overwhelming  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment. And  yet  during  the  whole  of  the  week  she 
had,  with  more  pride  than  wisdom,  avoided  this 
particular  A. B.C.  shop. 

"  I  thought  you  would  not  keep  away  very 
long,"  said  a  quiet  voice  close  to  her  ear. 

She  nearly  lost  her  balance — where  in  the  world 
had  he  come  from?  She  certainly  had  not  heard 
the  slightest  sound,  and  yet  there  he  sat,  in  the 
corner,  like  a  veritable  Jack-in-the-box,  his  mild 
blue  eyes  staring  apologetically  at  her,  his  nervous 
fingers  toying  with  the  inevitable  bit  of  string. 

The  waitress  brought  him  his  glass  of  milk  and 
a  cheese-cake.  He  ate  it  in  silence,  while  his  piece 
of  string  lay  idly  beside  him  on  the  table.  When 
he  had  finished  he  fumbled  in  his  capacious 
pockets,  and  drew  out  the  inevitable  pocket-book. 

Placing  a  small  photograph  before  the  girl,  he 
said  quietly: 

31 


32          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  That   is   the   back  of   the   houses   in   Philli- 
more  Terrace,  which  overlook  Adam  and  Eve 


mews." 


She  looked  at  the  photograph,  then  at  him,  with 
a  kindly  look  of  indulgent  expectancy. 

"  You  will  notice  that  the  row  of  back  gardens 
have  each  an  exit  into  the  mews.  These  mews 
are  built  in  the  shape  of  a  capital  F.  The  photo- 
graph is  taken  looking  straight  down  the  short 
horizontal  line,  which  ends,  as  you  see,  in  a  cul- 
de-sac.  The  bottom  of  the  vertical  line  turns  into 
Phillimore  Terrace,  and  the  end  of  the  upper  long 
horizontal  line  into  High  Street,  Kensington. 
Now,  on  that  particular  night,  or  rather  early 
morning,  of  January  I5th,  Constable  D  21,  hav- 
ing turned  into  the  mews  from  Phillimore  Ter- 
race, stood  for  a  moment  at  the  angle  formed  by 
the  long  vertical  artery  of  the  mews  and  the  short 
horizontal  one  which,  as  I  observed  before,  looks 
on  to  the  back  gardens  of  the  Terrace  houses,  and 
ends  in  a  cul-de-sac. 

"  How  long  D  2 1  stood  at  that  particular  cor- 
ner he  could  not  exactly  say,  but  he  thinks  it  must 
have  been  three  or  four  minutes  before  he  noticed 
a  suspicious-looking  individual  shambling  along 
under  the  shadow  of  the  garden  walls.  He  was 
working  his  way  cautiously  in  the  direction  of  the 
cul-de-sacf  and  D  21,  also  keeping  well  within  the 
shadow,  went  noiselessly  after  him. 

"  He  had  almost  overtaken  him — was,  in  fact, 


ROBBERY   IN   PHILLIMORE   TERRACE    33 

not  more  than  thirty  yards  from  him — when  from 
out  of  one  of  the  two  end  houses — No.  22,  Philli- 
more  Terrace,  in  fact — a  man,  in  nothing  but  his 
night  shirt,  rushed  out  excitedly,  and,  before  D 
2 1  had  time  to  intervene,  literally  threw  himself 
upon  the  suspected  individual,  rolling  over  and 
over  with  him  on  the  hard  cobble-stones,  and  fran- 
tically shrieking,  'Thief I  Thief!  Police!' 

"  It  was  some  time  before  the  constable  suc- 
ceeded in  rescuing  the  tramp  from  the  excited  grip 
of  his  assailant,  and  several  minutes  before  he 
could  make  himself  heard. 

"  '  There !  there !  that'll  do ! '  he  managed  to 
say  at  last,  as  he  gave  the  man  in  the  shirt  a 
vigorous  shove,  which  silenced  him  for  the  mo- 
ment. *  Leave  the  man  alone  now,  you  mustn't 
make  that  noise  this  time  o'  night,  wakin'  up  all 
the  folks.'  The  unfortunate  tramp,  who  in  the 
meanwhile  had  managed  to  get  on  to  his  feet 
again,  made  no  attempt  to  get  away;  probably  he 
thought  he  would  stand  but  a  poor  chance.  But 
the  man  in  the  shirt  had  partly  recovered  his 
power  of  speech,  and  was  now  blurting  out  jerky, 
half-intelligible  sentences: 

'I  have  been  robbed — robbed — I — that  is-  — 
my  master — Mr.  Knopf.  The  desk  is  open — the 
diamonds  gone — all  in  my  charge — and — now 
they  are  stolen !  That's  the  thief — I'll  swear — I 
heard  him — not  three  minutes  ago — I  rushed 
downstairs — the  door  into  the  garden  was  smashed 


34  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

• — I  ran  across  the  garden — he  was  sneaking  about 
here  still — Thief!  Thief!  Police!  Diamonds! 
Constable,  don't  let  him  go — I'll  make  you  re- 
sponsible if  you  let  him  go ' 

"'Now  then — that'll  do!'  admonished  D  21 
as  soon  as  he  could  get  a  word  in,  '  stop  that  row, 
will  you?' 

"The  man  in  the  shirt  was  gradually  recover- 
ing from  his  excitement. 

"  *  Can  I  give  this  man  in  charge?'  he  asked. 

"'What  for?' 

"  *  Burglary  and  housebreaking.  I  heard  him, 
I  tell  you.  He  must  have  Mr.  Knopf's  diamonds 
about  him  at  this  moment.' 

"'Where  is  Mr.  Knopf?' 

"  *  Out  of  town,'  groaned  the  man  in  the  shirt. 
"  '  He  went  to  Brighton  last  night,  and  left  me  in 
charge,  and  now  this  thief  has  been  and ' 

"The  tramp  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sud- 
denly, without  a  word,  he  quietly  began  taking  off 
his  coat  and  waistcoat.  These  he  handed  across 
to  the  constable.  Eagerly  the  man  in  the  shirt 
fell  on  them,  and  turned  the  ragged  pockets  in- 
side out.  From  one  of  the  windows  a  hilarious 
voice  made  some  facetious  remark,  as  the  tramp 
with  equal  solemnity  began  divesting  himself  of 
his  nether  garments. 

*  Now  then,  stop  that  nonsense,'  pronounced 
D  2 1  severely,  '  what  were  you  doing  here  this 
time  o'  night,  anyway?' 


"  IT  WAS  SOME  TIME  BEFORE  THE  CONSTABLE  SUCCEEDED  IN 
RESCUING  THE  TRAMP  " 


ROBBERY   IN   PHILLIMORE    TERRACE    35 

"  '  The  streets  o'  London  is  free  to  the  public, 
ain't  they?'  queried  the  tramp. 

"  '  This  don't  lead  nowhere,  my  man.' 

" '  Then  I've  lost  my  way,  that's  all,'  growled 
the  man  surlily,  '  and  p'raps  you'll  let  me  get  along 
now.' 

"  By  this  time  a  couple  of  constables  had  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene.  D  21  had  no  intention  of 
losing  sight  of  his  friend  the  tramp,  and  the  man 
in  the  shirt  had  again  made  a  dash  for  the  latter's 
collar  at  the  bare  idea  that  he  should  be  allowed 
to  *  get  along.' 

"  I  think  D  21  was  alive  to  the  humour  of  the 
situation.  He  suggested  that  Roberston  (the  man 
in  the  night-shirt)  should  go  in  and  get  some 
clothes  on,  whilst  he  himself  would  wait  for  the 
inspector  and  the  detective,  whom  D  15  would 
send  round  from  the  station  immediately. 

"  Poor  Robertson's  teeth  were  chattering  with 
cold.  He  had  a  violent  fit  of  sneezing  as  D  21 
hurried  him  into  the  house.  The  latter,  with  an- 
other constable,  remained  to  watch  the  burglared 
premises  both  back  and  front,  and  D  15  took  the 
wretched  tramp  to  the  station  with  a  view  to  send- 
ing an  inspector  and  a  detective  round  imme- 
diately. 

"  When  the  two  latter  gentlemen  arrived  at  No. 
22  Phillimore  Terrace,  they  found  poor  old 
Robertson  in  bed,  shivering,  and  still  quite  blue. 
He  had  got  himself  a  hot  drink,  but  his  eyes  were 


36          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

streaming  and  his  voice  was  terribly  husky.  D 
21  had  stationed  himself  in  the  dining-room, 
where  Robertson  had  pointed  the  desk  out  to  him, 
with  its  broken  lock  and  scattered  contents. 

"  Robertson,  between  his  sneezes,  gave  what 
account  he  could  of  the  events  which  happened  im- 
mediately before  the  robbery. 

"His  master,  Mr.  Ferdinand  Knopf,  he  said, 
was  a  diamond  merchant,  and  a  bachelor.  He 
himself  had  been  in  Mr.  Knopf's  employ  over 
fifteen  years,  and  was  his  only  indoor  servant. 
A  charwoman  came  every  day  to  do  the  house- 
work. 

"Last  night  Mr.  Knopf  dined  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Shipman,  at  No.  26,  lower  down.  Mr.  Ship- 
man  is  the  great  jeweller  who  has  his  place  of 
business  in  South  Audley  Street.  By  the  last  post 
there  came  a  letter  with  the  Brighton  postmark, 
and  marked  'urgent,'  for  Mr.  Knopf,  and  he 
(Robertson)  was  just  wondering  if  he  should  run 
over  to  No.  26  with  it,  when  his  master  returned. 
He  gave  one  glance  at  the  contents  of  the  letter, 
asked  for  his  A.  B.  C.  Railway  Guide,  and  or- 
dered him  (Robertson)  to  pack  his  bag  at  once 
and  fetch  him  a  cab. 

4 1  guessed  what  it  was,'  continued  Robertson 
after  another  violent  fit  of  sneezing.  *  Mr.  Knopf 
has  a  brother,  Mr.  Emile  Knopf,  to  whom  he  is 
very  much  attached,  and  who  is  a  great  invalid. 
He  generally  goes  about  from  one  seaside  place 


to  another.     He  is  now  at  Brighton,  and  has  re- 
cently been  very  ill. 

"  '  If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  go  down- 
stairs I  think  you  will  still  find  the  letter  lying 
on  the  hall  table. 

"'I  read  it  after  Mr.  Knopf  left;  it  was  not 
from  his  brother,  but  from  a  gentleman  who 
signed  himself  J.  Collins,  M.  D.  I  don't  remem- 
ber the  exact  words,  but,  of  course,  you'll  be  able 
to  read  the  letter — Mr.  J.  Collins  said  he  had 
been  called  in  very  suddenly  to  see  Mr.  Emile 
Knopf,  who,  he  added,  had  not  many  hours  to 
live,  and  had  begged  of  the  doctor  to  communi- 
cate at  once  with  his  brother  in  London. 

'  Before  leaving,  Mr.  Knopf  warned  me  that 
there  were  some  valuables  in  his  desk — diamonds 
mostly,  and  told  me  to  be  particularly  careful 
about  locking  up  the  house.  He  often  has  left 
me  like  this  in  charge  of  his  premises,  and  usually 
there  have  been  diamonds  in  his  desk,  for  Mr. 
Knopf  has  no  regular  city  office,  as  he  is  a  com- 
mercial traveller.' 

"  This,  briefly,  was  the  gist  of  the  matter  which 
Robertson  related  to  the  inspector  with  many  rep- 
etitions and  persistent  volubility. 

'  The  detective  and  inspector,  before  returning 

to   the   station   with   their   report,   thought  they 

would  call  at  No.  26,  on  Mr.  Shipman,  the  great 

jeweller. 

"You  remember,  of  course,"  added  the  man  in 


38  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

the  corner,  dreamily  contemplating  his  bit  of 
string,  "  the  exciting  developments  of  this  ex- 
traordinary case.  Mr.  Arthur  Shipman  is  the 
head  of  the  firm  of  Shipman  and  Co.,  the  wealthy 
jewellers.  He  is  a  widower,  and  lives  very 
quietly  by  himself  in  his  own  old-fashioned  way 
in  the  small  Kensington  house,  leaving  it  to  his 
two  married  sons  to  keep  up  the  style  and  swagger 
befitting  the  representatives  of  so  wealthy  a  firm. 

" '  I  have  only  known  Mr.  Knopf  a  very  little 
while,'  he  explained  to  the  detectives.  '  He  sold 
me  two  or  three  stones  once  or  twice,  I  think; 
but  we  are  both  single  men,  and  we  have  often 
dined  together.  Last  night  he  dined  with  me.  He 
had  that  afternoon  received  a  very  fine  consign- 
ment of  Brazilian  diamonds,  as  he  told  me,  and 
knowing  how  beset  I  am  with  callers  at  my  busi- 
ness place,  he  had  brought  the  stones  with  him, 
hoping,  perhaps,  to  do  a  bit  of  trade  over  the  nuts 
and  wine. 

"  '  I  bought  £25,000  worth  of  him,'  added  the 
jeweller,  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  so  many  far- 
things, 'and  gave  him  a  cheque  across  the  dinner 
table  for  that  amount.  I  think  we  were  both 
pleased  with  our  bargain,  and  we  had  a  final 
bottle  of  '48  port  over  it  together.  Mr.  Knopf 
left  me  at  about  9.30,  for  he  knows  I  go  very  early 
to  bed,  and  I  took  my  new  stock  upstairs  with  me, 
and  locked  it  up  in  the  safe.  I  certainly  heard 
nothing  of  the  noise  in  the  mews  last  night.  I 


ROBBERY  IN  PHILLIMORE  TERRACE  39 

sleep  on  the  second  floor,  in  the  front  of  the  house, 
and  this  is  the  first  I  have  heard  of  poor  Mr. 
Knopf's  loss ' 

"At  this  point  of  his  narrative  Mr.  Shipman 
very  suddenly  paused,  and  his  face  became  very 
pale.  With  a  hasty  word  of  excuse  he  uncere- 
moniously left  the  room,  and  the  detective  heard 
him  running  quickly  upstairs. 

"  Less  than  two  minutes  later  Mr.  Shipman  re- 
turned. There  was  no  need  for  him  to  speak; 
both  the  detective  and  the  inspector  guessed  the 
truth  in  a  moment  by  the  look  upon  his  face. 

"  '  The  diamonds '  he  gasped.  '  I  have 

been  robbed.'  " 


CHAPTER   V 

A  NIGHT'S  ADVENTURE 

"Now  I  must  tell  you,"  continued  the  man  in 
the  corner,  "  that  after  I  had  read  the  account 
of  the  double  robbery,  which  appeared  in  the  early 
afternoon  papers,  I  set  to  work  and  had  a  good 
think — yes !  "  he  added  with  a  smile,  noting  Polly's 
look  at  the  bit  of  string,  on  which  he  was  still 
at  work,  "  yes !  aided  by  this  small  adjunct  to 
continued  thought — I  made  notes  as  to  how  I 
should  proceed  to  discover  the  clever  thief,  who 
had  carried  off  a  small  fortune  in  a  single  night. 
Of  course,  my  methods  are  not  those  of  a  London 
detective!  he  had  his  own  way  of  going  to  work. 
The  one  who  was  conducting  this  case  questioned 
the  unfortunate  jeweller  very  closely  about  his 
servants  and  his  household  generally. 

" '  I  have  three  servants,'  explained  Mr.  Ship- 
man,  '  two  of  whom  have  been  with  me  for  many 
years;  one,  the  housemaid,  is  a  fairly  new-comer 
— she  has  been  here  about  six  months.  She  came 
recommended  by  a  friend,  and  bore  an  excellent 
character.  She  and  the  parlour-maid  room  to- 
gether. The  cook,  who  knew  me  when  I  was  a 
schoolboy,  sleeps  alone;  all  three  servants  sleep 
on  the  floor  above.  I  locked  the  jewels  up  in 

40 


A   NIGHT'S   ADVENTURE  41 

the  safe  which  stands  in  the  dressing-room.  My 
keys  and  watch  I  placed,  as  usual,  beside  my  bed. 
As  a  rule,  I  am  a  fairly  light  sleeper. 

" '  I  cannot  understand  how  it  could  have  hap- 
pened— but — you  had  better  come  up  and  have  a 
look  at  the  safe.  The  key  must  have  been  ab- 
stracted from  my  bedside,  the  safe  opened,  and 
the  keys  replaced — all  while  I  was  fast  asleep. 
Though  I  had  no  occasion  to  look  into  the  safe 
until  just  now,  I  should  have  discovered  my  loss 
before  going  to  business,  for  I  intended  to  take 
the  diamonds  away  with  me ' 

"  The  detective  and  the  inspector  went  up  to 
have  a  look  at  the  safe.  The  lock  had  in  no  way 
been  tampered  with — it  had  been  opened  with  its 
own  key.  The  detective  spoke  of  chloroform,  but 
Mr.  Shipman  declared  that  when  he  woke  in  the 
morning  at  about  half-past  seven  there  was  no 
smell  of  chloroform  in  the  room.  However,  the 
proceedings  of  the  daring  thief  certainly  pointed 
to  the  use  of  an  anaesthetic.  An  examination  of 
the  premises  brought  to  light  the  fact  that  the 
burglar  had,  as  in  Mr.  Knopf's  house,  used  the 
glass-panelled  door  from  the  garden  as  a  means 
of  entrance,  but  in  this  instance  he  had  carefully 
cut  out  the  pane  of  glass  with  a  diamond,  slipped 
the  bolts,  turned  the  key,  and  walked  in. 

"  '  Which  among  your  servants  knew  that  you 
had  the  diamonds  in  your  house  last  night,  Mr. 
Shipman?'  asked  the  detective. 


42          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

*  Not  one,  I  should  say,'  replied  the  jeweller, 
*  though,  perhaps,  the  parlour-maid,  whilst  wait- 
ing at  table,  may  have  heard  me  and  Mr.  Knopf 
discussing  our  bargain.' 

'Would  you  object  to  my  searching  all  your 
servants'  boxes  ? ' 

'  Certainly  not.  They  would  not  object, 
either,  I  am  sure.  They  are  perfectly  honest.' 

"  The  searching  of  servants'  belongings  is  in- 
variably a  useless  proceeding,"  added  the  man  in 
the  corner,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "  No 
one,  not  even  a  latter-day  domestic,  would  be  fool 
enough  to  keep  stolen  property  in  the  house.  How- 
ever, the  usual  farce  was  gone  through,  with  more 
or  less  protest  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Shipman's  serv- 
ants, and  with  the  usual  result. 

"The  jeweller  could  give  no  further  informa- 
tion; the  detective  and  inspector,  to  do  them  jus- 
tice, did  their  work  of  investigation  minutely  and, 
what  is  more,  intelligently.  It  seemed  evident, 
from  their  deductions,  that  the  burglar  had  com- 
menced proceedings  on  No.  26  Phillimore  Ter- 
race, and  had  then  gone  on,  probably  climbing 
over  the  garden  walls  between  the  houses  to  No. 
22,  where  he  was  almost  caught  in  the  act  by 
Robertson.  The  facts  were  simple  enough,  but 
the  mystery  remained  as  to  the  individual  who  had 
managed  to  glean  the  information  of  the  presence 
of  the  diamonds  in  both  the  houses,  and  the  means 
which  he  had  adopted  to  get  that  information.  It 


A   NIGHT'S   ADVENTURE  43 

was  obvious  that  the  thief  or  thieves  knew  more 
about  Mr.  Knopf's  affairs  than  Mr.  Shipman's, 
since  they  had  known  how  to  use  Mr.  Emile 
Knopf's  name  in  order  to  get  his  brother  out  of 
the  way. 

"  It  was  now  nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  the  de- 
tectives, having  taken  leave  of  Mr.  Shipman,  went 
back  to  No.  22,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  Mr. 
Knopf  had  come  back;  the  door  was  opened  by 
the  old  charwoman,  who  said  that  her  master  had 
returned,  and  was  having  some  breakfast  in  the 
dining-room. 

"  Mr.  Ferdinand  Knopf  was  a  middle-aged 
man,  with  sallow  complexion,  black  hair  and 
beard,  of  obviously  Hebrew  extraction.  He  spoke 
with  a  marked  foreign  accent,  but  very  courte- 
ously, to  the  two  officials,  who,  he  begged,  would 
excuse  him  if  he  went  on  with  his  breakfast. 

" '  I  was  fully  prepared  to  hear  the  bad  news,' 
he  explained,  '  which  my  man  Robertson  told  me 
when  I  arrived.  The  letter  I  got  last  night  was 
a  bogus  one;  there  is  no  such  person  as  J.  Collins, 
M.  D.  My  brother  had  never  felt  better  in  his 
life.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  very  soon  trace  the 
cunning  writer  of  that  epistle — ah!  but  I  was  in 
a  rage,  I  can  tell  you,  when  I  got  to  the  Metro- 
pole  at  Brighton,  and  found  that  Emile,  my 
brother,  had  never  heard  of  any  Doctor  Collins. 
'  The  last  train  to  town  had  gone,  although  I 
raced  back  to  the  station  as  hard  as  I  could.  Poor 


44 

old  Robertson,  he  has  a  terrible  cold.  Ah  yes! 
my  loss!  it  is  for  me  a  very  serious  one;  if  I  had 
not  made  that  lucky  bargain  with  Mr.  Shipman 
last  night  I  should,  perhaps,  at  this  moment  be  a 
ruined  man. 

"  *  The  stones  I  had  yesterday  were,  firstly,  some 
magnificent  Brazilians;  these  I  sold  to  Mr.  Ship- 
man mostly.  Then  I  had  some  very  good  Cape 
diamonds — all  gone ;  and  some  quite  special  Paris- 
ians, of  wonderful  work  and  finish,  entrusted  to 
me  for  sale  by  a  great  French  house.  I  tell  you, 
sir,  my  loss  will  be  nearly  £10,000  altogether.  I 
sell  on  commission,  and,  of  course,  have  to  make 
good  the  loss.' 

"  He  was  evidently  trying  to  bear  up  man- 
fully, and  as  a  business  man  should,  under  his  sad 
fate.  He  refused  in  any  way  to  attach  the  slight- 
est blame  to  his  old  and  faithful  servant  Robert- 
son, who  had  caught,  perhaps,  his  death  of  cold 
in  his  zeal  for  his  absent  master.  As  for  any  hint 
of  suspicion  falling  even  remotely  upon  the  man, 
the  very  idea  appeared  to  Mr.  Knopf  absolutely 
preposterous. 

"  With  regard  to  the  old  charwoman,  Mr. 
Knopf  certainly  knew  nothing  about  her,  beyond 
the  fact  that  she  had  been  recommended  to  him 
by  one  of  the  tradespeople  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  seemed  perfectly  honest,  respectable,  and 
sober. 

"  About  the  tramp  Mr.  Knopf  knew  still  less, 


A   NIGHT'S   ADVENTURE  45 

nor  could  he  Imagine  how  he,  or  in  fact  anybody 
else,  could  possibly  know  that  he  happened  to 
have  diamonds  in  his  house  that  night. 

"This  certainly  seemed  the  great  hitch  in  the 
case. 

"  Mr.  Ferdinand  Knopf,  at  the  instance  of  the 
police,  later  on  went  to  the  station  and  had  a  look 
at  the  suspected  tramp.  He  declared  that  he  had 
never  set  eyes  on  him  before. 

"  Mr.  Shipman,  on  his  way  home  from  busi- 
ness in  the  afternoon,  had  done  likewise,  and  made 
a  similar  statement. 

"  Brought  before  the  magistrate,  the  tramp 
gave  but  a  poor  account  of  himself.  He  gave  a 
name  and  address,  which  latter,  of  course,  proved 
to  be  false.  After  that  he  absolutely  refused  to 
speak.  He  seemed  not  to  care  whether  he  was 
kept  in  custody  or  not.  Very  soon  even  the  police 
realised  that,  for  the  present,  at  any  rate,  nothing 
could  be  got  out  of  the  suspected  tramp. 

"  Mr.  Francis  Howard,  the  detective,  who  had 
charge  of  the  case,  though  he  would  not  admit  it 
even  to  himself,  was  at  his  wits'  ends.  You  must 
remember  that  the  burglary,  through  its  very  sim- 
plicity, was  an  exceedingly  mysterious  affair.  The 
constable,  D  21,  who  had  stood  in  Adam  and  Eve 
mews,  presumably  while  Mr.  Knopf's  house  was 
being  robbed,  had  seen  no  one  turn  out  from  the 
cul-de-sac  into  the  main  passage  of  the  mews. 

"  The  stables,  which  immediately  faced  the  back 


46          THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

entrance  of  the  Phillimore  Terrace  houses,  were 
all  private  ones  belonging  to  residents  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. The  coachmen,  their  families,  and  all 
the  grooms  who  slept  in  the  stablings  were  rigidly 
watched  and  questioned.  One  and  all  had  seen 
nothing,  heard  nothing,  until  Robertson's  shrieks 
had  roused  them  from  their  sleep. 

"  As  for  the  letter  from  Brighton,  it  was  ab- 
solutely commonplace,  and  written  upon  notepaper 
which  the  detective,  with  Macchiavellian  cunning, 
traced  to  a  stationer's  shop  in  West  Street.  But 
the  trade  at  that  particular  shop  was  a  very  brisk 
one;  scores  of  people  had  bought  notepaper  there, 
similar  to  that  on  which  the  supposed  doctor  had 
written  his  tricky  letter.  The  handwriting  was 
cramped,  perhaps  a  disguised  one;  in  any  case, 
except  under  very  exceptional  circumstances,  it 
could  afford  no  clue  to  the  identity  of  the  thief. 
Needless  to  say,  the  tramp,  when  told  to  write 
his  name,  wrote  a  totally  different  and  absolutely 
uneducated  hand. 

"Matters  stood,  however,  in  the  same  persist- 
ently mysterious  state  when  a  small  discovery  was 
made,  which  suggested  to  Mr.  Francis  Howard 
an  idea,  which,  if  properly  carried  out,  would, 
he  hoped,  inevitably  bring  the  cunning  burglar 
safely  within  the  grasp  of  the  police. 

"  That  was  the  discovery  of  a  few  of  Mr. 
Knopf's  diamonds,"  continued  the  man  in  the  cor- 
ner after  a  slight  pause,  "  evidently  trampled  into 


A   NIGHT'S   ADVENTURE  47 

the  ground  by  the  thief  whilst  making  his  hur- 
ried exit  through  the  garden  of  No.  22  Philli- 
more  Terrace. 

"  At  the  end  of  this  garden  there  is  a  small 
studio  which  had  been  built  by  a  former  owner 
of  the  house,  and  behind  it  a  small  piece  of  waste 
ground  about  seven  feet  square  which  had  once 
been  a  rockery,  and  is  still  filled  with  large  loose 
stones,  in  the  shadow  of  which  earwigs  and  wood- 
lice  innumerable  have  made  a  happy  hunting 
ground. 

"  It  was  Robertson  who,  two  days  after  the 
robbery,  having  need  one  day  of  a  large  stone, 
for  some  household  purpose  or  other,  dislodged 
one  from  that  piece  of  waste  ground,  and  found 
a  few  shining  pebbles  beneath  it.  Mr.  Knopf 
took  them  round  to  the  police-station  himself  im- 
mediately, and  identified  the  stones  as  some  of 
his  Parisian  ones. 

"  Later  on  the  detective  went  to  view  the  place 
where  the  find  had  been  made,  and  there  con- 
ceived the  plan  upon  which  he  built  his  cherished 
hopes. 

"Acting  upon  the  advice  of  Mr.  Francis 
Howard,  the  police  decided  to  let  the  anonymous 
tramp  out  of  his  safe  retreat  within  the  station, 
and  to  allow  him  to  wander  whithersoever  he 
chose.  A  good  idea,  perhaps — the  presumption 
being  that,  sooner  or  later,  if  the  man  was  in 
any  way  mixed  up  with  the  cunning  thieves,  he 


48          THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

would  either  rejoin  his  comrades  or  even  lead  the 
police  to  where  the  remnant  of  his  hoard  lay 
hidden;  needless  to  say,  his  footsteps  were  to  be 
literally  dogged. 

"The  wretched  tramp,  on  his  discharge,  wan- 
dered out  of  the  yard,  wrapping  his  thin  coat 
round  his  shoulders,  for  it  was  a  bitterly  cold  af- 
ternoon. He  began  operations  by  turning  into 
the  Town  Hall  Tavern  for  a  good  feed  and  a 
copious  drink.  Mr.  Francis  Howard  noted  that 
he  seemed  to  eye  every  passer-by  with  suspicion, 
but  he  seemed  to  enjoy  his  dinner,  and  sat  some 
time  over  his  bottle  of  wine. 

"  It  was  close  upon  four  o'clock  when  he  left 
the  tavern,  and  then  began  for  the  indefatigable 
Mr.  Howard  one  of  the  most  wearisome  and  un- 
interesting chases,  through  the  mazes  of  the  Lon- 
don streets,  he  ever  remembers  to  have  made. 
Up  Netting  Hill,  down  the  slums  of  Netting 
Dale,  along  the  High  Street,  beyond  Hammer- 
smith, and  through  Shepherd's  Bush  did  that 
anonymous  tramp  lead  the  unfortunate  detective, 
never  hurrying  himself,  stopping  every  now 
and  then  at  a  public-house  to  get  a  drink, 
whither  Mr.  Howard  did  not  always  care  to  fol- 
low him. 

"  In  spite  of  his  fatigue,  Mr.  Francis  Howard's 
hopes  rose  with  every  half  hour  of  this  weary 
tramp.  The  man  was  obviously  striving  to  kill 
time;  he  seemed  to  feel  no  weariness,  but  walked 


A    NIGHT'S   ADVENTURE  49 

on  and  on,  perhaps  suspecting  that  he  was  being 
followed. 

"  At  last,  with  a  beating  heart,  though  half  per- 
ished with  cold,  and  with  terribly  sore  feet,  the 
detective  began  to  realise  that  the  tramp  was 
gradually  working  his  way  back  towards  Ken- 
sington. It  was  then  close  upon  eleven  o'clock 
at  night;  once  or  twice  the  man  had  walked  up 
and  down  the  High  Street,  from  St.  Paul's  School 
to  Derry  and  Toms'  shops  and  back  again,  he 
had  looked  down  one  or  two  of  the  side  streets 
and — at  last — he  turned  into  Phillimore  Terrace. 
He  seemed  in  no  hurry,  he  even  stopped  once  in 
the  middle  of  the  road,  trying  to  light  a  pipe, 
which,  as  there  was  a  high  east  wind,  took  him 
some  considerable  time.  Then  he  leisurely  saun- 
tered down  the  street,  and  turned  into  Adam  and 
Eve  mews,  with  Mr.  Francis  Howard  now  close 
at  his  heels. 

"  Acting  upon  the  detective's  instructions,  there 
were  several  men  in  plain  clothes  ready  to  his  call 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.  Two  stood 
within  the  shadow  of  the  steps  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Church  at  the  corner  of  the  mews,  others 
were  stationed  well  within  a  soft  call. 

"  Hardly,  therefore,  had  the  hare  turned  into 
the  cul-de-sac  at  the  back  of  Phillimore  Terrace 
than,  at  a  slight  sound  from  Mr.  Francis  Howard, 
every  egress  was  barred  to  him,  and  he  was 
caught  like  a  rat  in  a  trap. 


50  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

"As  soon  as  the  tramp  had  advanced  some 
thirty  yards  or  so  (the  whole  length  of  this  part 
of  the  mews  is  about  one  hundred  yards)  and  was 
lost  in  the  shadow,  Mr.  Francis  Howard  directed 
four  or  five  of  his  men  to  proceed  cautiously  up 
the  mews,  whilst  the  same  number  were  to  form 
a  line  all  along  the  front  of  Phillimore  Terrace 
between  the  mews  and  the  High  Street. 

"  Remember,  the  back-garden  walls  threw  long 
and  dense  shadows,  but  the  silhouette  of  the  man 
would  be  clearly  outlined  if  he  made  any  attempt 
at  climbing  over  them.  Mr.  Howard  felt  quite 
sure  that  the  thief  was  bent  on  recovering  the 
stolen  goods,  which,  no  doubt,  he  had  hidden  in 
the  rear  of  one  of  the  houses.  He  would  be 
caught  in  flagrante  delicto,  and,  with  a  heavy 
sentence  hovering  over  him,  he  would  probably  be 
induced  to  name  his  accomplice.  Mr.  Francis 
Howard  was  thoroughly  enjoying  himself. 

"  The  minutes  sped  on ;  absolute  silence,  in  spite 
of  the  presence  of  so  many  men,  reigned  in  the 
dark  and  deserted  mews. 

"  Of  course,  this  night's  adventure  was  never 
allowed  to  get  into  the  papers,"  added  the  man 
in  the  corner  with  his  mild  smile.  "  Had  the  plan 
been  successful,  we  should  have  heard  all  about 
it,  with  a  long  eulogistic  article  as  to  the  astute- 
ness of  our  police ;  but  as  it  was — well,  the  tramp 
sauntered  up  the  mews — and — there  he  remained 
for  aught  Mr.  Francis  Howard  or  the  other  con- 


A   NIGHT'S   ADVENTURE  51 

stables  could  ever  explain.  The  earth  or  the 
shadows  swallowed  him  up.  No  one  saw  him 
climb  one  of  the  garden  walls,  no  one  heard  him 
break  open  a  door;  he  had  retreated  within  the 
shadow  of  the  garden  walls,  and  was  seen  or 
heard  of  no  more." 

"  One  of  the  servants  in  the  Phillimore  Terrace 
houses  must  have  belonged  to  the  gang,"  said 
Polly  with  quick  decision. 

"Ah,  yes!  but  which?"  said  the  man  in  the 
corner,  making  a  beautiful  knot  in  his  bit  of  string. 
"  I  can  assure  you  that  the  police  left  not  a  stone 
unturned  once  more  to  catch  sight  of  that  tramp 
whom  they  had  had  in  custody  for  two  days,  but 
not  a  trace  of  him  could  they  find,  nor  of  the  dia- 
monds, from  that  day  to  this." 


CHAPTER     VI 

ALL  HE  KNEW 

"  THE  tramp  was  missing,"  continued  the  man 
in  the  corner,  "  and  Mr.  Francis  Howard  tried 
to  find  the  missing  tramp.  Going  round  to  the 
front,  and  seeing  the  lights  at  No.  26  still  in,  he 
called  upon  Mr.  Shipman.  The  jeweller  had  had 
a  few  friends  to  dinner,  and  was  giving  them 
whiskies  and  sodas  before  saying  good-night.  The 
servants  had  just  finished  washing  up,  and  were 
waiting  to  go  to  bed;  neither  they  nor  Mr.  Ship- 
man nor  his  guests  had  seen  or  heard  anything  of 
the  suspicious  individual. 

"  Mr.  Francis  Howard  went  on  to  see  Mr.  Fer- 
dinand Knopf.  This  gentleman  was  having  his 
warm  bath,  preparatory  to  going  to  bed.  So 
Robertson  told  the  detective.  However,  Mr. 
Knopf  insisted  on  talking  to  Mr.  Howard  through 
his  bath-room  door.  Mr.  Knopf  thanked  him  for 
all  the  trouble  he  was  taking,  and  felt  sure  that 
he  and  Mr.  Shipman  would  soon  recover  posses- 
sion of  their  diamonds,  thanks  to  the  persever- 
ing detective. 

"He!  he!  he!"  laughed  the  man  in  the 
corner.  "  Poor  Mr.  Howard.  He  persevered — 
but  got  no  farther;  no,  nor  anyone  else,  for  that 

s* 


ALL    HE    KNEW  53 

matter.  Even  I  might  not  be  able  to  convict 
the  thieves  if  I  told  all  I  knew  to  the  police. 

"  Now,  follow  my  reasoning,  point  by  point," 
he  added  eagerly. 

"Who  knew  of  the  presence  of  the  diamonds 
in  the  house  of  Mr.  Shipman  and  Mr.  Knopf? 
Firstly,"  he  said,  putting  up  an  ugly  clawlike 
finger,  "  Mr.  Shipman,  then  Mr.  Knopf,  then  pre- 
sumably, the  man  Robertson." 

"And  the  tramp?"  said  Polly. 

"Leave  the  tramp  alone  for  the  present  since 
he  has  vanished,  and  take  point  number  two. 
Mr.  Shipman  was  drugged.  That  was  pretty  ob- 
vious; no  man  under  ordinary  circumstances 
would,  without  waking,  have  his  keys  abstracted 
and  then  replaced  at  his  own  bedside.  Mr. 
Howard  suggested  that  the  thief  was  armed  with 
some  anaesthetic;  but  how  did  the  thief  get  into 
Mr.  Shipman's  room  without  waking  him  from 
his  natural  sleep?  Is  it  not  simpler  to  suppose 
that  the  thief  had  taken  the  precaution  to  drug 
the  jeweller  before  the  latter  went  to  bed?" 

"  But " 

"  Wait  a  moment,  and  take  point  number 
three.  Though  there  was  every  proof  that  Mr. 
Shipman  had  been  in  possession  of  £25,000  worth 
of  goods  since  Mr.  Knopf  had  a  cheque  from  him 
for  that  amount,  there  was  no  proof  that  in  Mr. 
Knopf's  house  there  was  even  an  odd  stone  worth 
a  sovereign. 


54          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  And  then  again,"  went  on  the  scarecrow,  get- 
ting more  and  more  excited,  "  did  it  ever  strike 
you,  or  anybody  else,  that  at  no  time,  while  the 
tramp  was  in  custody,  while  all  that  searching  ex- 
amination was  being  gone  on  with,  no  one  ever 
saw  Mr.  Knopf  and  his  man  Robertson  together  at 
the  same  time? 

"  Ah !  "  he  continued,  whilst  suddenly  the  young 
girl  seemed  to  see  the  whole  thing  as  in  a  vision, 
"  they  did  not  forget  a  single  detail — follow  them 
with  me,  point  by  point.  Two  cunning  scoundrels. 
— geniuses  they  should  be  called — well  provided 
with  some  ill-gotten  funds — but  determined  on  a 
grand  coup.  They  play  at  respectability,  for  six 
months,  say.  One  is  the  master,  the  other  the  ser- 
vant; they  take  a  house  in  the  same  street  as  their 
intended  victim,  make  friends  with  him,  accom- 
plish one  or  two  creditable  but  very  small  busi- 
ness transactions,  always  drawing  on  the  reserve 
funds,  which  might  even  have  amounted  to  a  few 
hundred — and  a  bit  of  credit. 

"Then  the  Brazilian  diamonds,  and  the  Paris- 
ians— which,  remember,  were  so  perfect  that  they 
required  chemical  testing  to  be  detected.  The 
Parisian  stones  are  sold — not  in  business,  of  course 
— in  the  evening,  after  dinner  and  a  good  deal  of 
wine.  Mr.  Knopf's  Brazilians  were  beautiful; 
perfect!  Mr.  Knopf  was  a  well-known  diamond 
merchant. 

"  Mr.  Shipman  bought — but  with  the  morning 


ALL   HE   KNEW  55 

would  have  come  sober  sense,  the  cheque  stopped 
before  it  could  have  been  presented,  the  swindler 
caught.  No !  those  exquisite  Parisians  were  never 
intended  to  rest  in  Mr.  Shipman's  safe  until  the 
morning.  That  last  bottle  of  '48  port,  with  the 
aid  of  a  powerful  soporific,  insured  that  Mr.  Ship- 
man  would  sleep  undisturbed  during  the  night. 

"  Ah !  remember  all  the  details,  they  were  so 
admirable!  the  letter  posted  in  Brighton  by  the 
cunning  rogue  to  himself,  the  smashed  desk,  the 
broken  pane  of  glass  in  his  own  house.  The  man 
Robertson  on  the  watch,  while  Knopf  himself  in 
ragged  clothing  found  his  way  into  No.  26.  If 
Constable  D  21  had  not  appeared  upon  the  scene 
that  exciting  comedy  in  the  early  morning  would 
not  have  been  enacted.  As  it  was,  in  the  supposed 
fight,  Mr.  Shipman's  diamonds  passed  from  the 
hands  of  the  tramp  into  those  of  his  accomplice. 

l<  Then,  later  on,  Robertson,  ill  in  bed,  while 
his  master  was  supposed  to  have  returned — by  the 
way,  it  never  struck  anybody  that  no  one  saw  Mr. 
Knopf  come  home,  though  he  surely  would  have 
driven  up  in  a  cab.  Then  the  double  part  played 
by  one  man  for  the  next  two  days.  It  certainly 
never  struck  either  the  police  or  the  inspector.  Re- 
member they  only  saw  Robertson  when  in  bed 
with  a  streaming  cold.  But  Knopf  had  to  be  got 
out  of  gaol  as  soon  as  possible;  the  dual  role 
could  not  have  been  kept  up  for  long.  Hence 
the  story  of  the  diamonds  found  in  the  garden  of 


56          THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

No.  22.  The  cunning  rogues  guessed  that  the 
usual  plan  would  be  acted  upon,  and  the  suspected 
thief  allowed  to  visit  the  scene  where  his  hoard  lay 
hidden. 

"  It  had  all  been  foreseen,  and  Robertson  must 
have  been  constantly  on  the  watch.  The  tramp 
stopped,  mind  you,  in  Phillimore  Terrace  for  some 
moments,  lighting  a  pipe.  The  accomplice,  then, 
was  fully  on  the  alert;  he  slipped  the  bolts  of  the 
back  garden  gate.  Five  minutes  later  Knopf  was 
in  the  house,  in  a  hot  bath,  getting  rid  of  the  dis- 
guise of  our  friend  the  tramp.  Remember  that 
again  here  the  detective  did  not  actually  see  him. 

"  The  next  morning  Mr.  Knopf,  black  hair  and 
beard  and  all,  was  himself  again.  The  whole 
trick  lay  in  one  simple  art,  which  those  two  cun- 
ning rascals  knew  to  absolute  perfection,  the  art 
of  impersonating  one  another. 

"  They  are  brothers,  presumably — twin  broth- 
ers, I  should  say." 

"  But  Mr.  Knopf "  suggested  Polly. 

"Well,  look  in  the  Trades'  Directory;  you  will 
see  F.  Knopf  &  Co.,  diamond  merchants,  of  some 
city  address.  Ask  about  the  firm  among  the 
trade ;  you  will  hear  that  it  is  firmly  established  on 
a  sound  financial  basis.  He!  he!  he!  and  it  de- 
serves to  be,"  added  the  man  in  the  corner,  as, 
calling  for  the  waitress,  he  received  his  ticket,  and 
taking  up  his  shabby  hat,  took  himself  and  his 
bit  of  string  rapidly  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  YORK  MYSTERY 

THE  man  in  the  corner  looked  quite  cheerful 
that  morning;  he  had  had  two  glasses  of  milk  and 
had  even  gone  to  the  extravagance  of  an  extra 
cheese-cake.  Polly  knew  that  he  was  itching  to 
talk  police  and  murders,  for  he  cast  furtive  glances 
at  her  from  time  to  time,  produced  a  bit  of 
string,  tied  and  untied  it  into  scores  of  compli- 
cated knots,  and  finally,  bringing  out  his  pocket- 
book,  he  placed  two  or  three  photographs  before 
her. 

"  Do  you  know  who  that  is?  "  he  asked,  point- 
ing to  one  of  these. 

The  girl  looked  at  the  face  on  the  picture.  It 
was  that  of  a  woman,  not  exactly  pretty,  but  very 
gentle  and  childlike,  with  a  strange  pathetic  look 
in  the  large  eyes  which  was  wonderfully  ap- 
pealing. 

'  That  was  Lady  Arthur  Skelmerton,"  he  said, 
and  in  a  flash  there  flitted  before  Polly's  mind  the 
weird  and  tragic  history  which  had  broken  this 
loving  woman's  heart.  Lady  Arthur  Skelmerton ! 
That  name  recalled  one  of  the  most  bewildering, 
most  mysterious  passages  in  the  annals  of  undis- 
covered crimes. 

57 


58          THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"Yes.  It  was  sad,  wasn't  it?"  he  commented, 
in  answer  to  Polly's  thoughts.  "Another  case 
which  but  for  idiotic  blunders  on  the  part  of  the 
police  must  have  stood  clear  as  daylight  before  the 
public  and  satisfied  general  anxiety.  Would  you 
object  to  my  recapitulating  its  preliminary  de- 
tails?" 

She  said  nothing,  so  he  continued  without  wait- 
ing further  for  a  reply. 

"  It  all  occurred  during  the  York  racing  week, 
a  time  which  brings  to  the  quiet  cathedral  city 
its  quota  of  shady  characters,  who  congregate 
wherever  money  and  wits  happen  to  fly  away  from 
their  owners.  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton,  a  very 
well-known  figure  in  London  society  and  in  racing 
circles,  had  rented  one  of  the  fine  houses  which 
overlook  the  racecourse.  He  had  entered  Pepper- 
corn, by  St.  Armand — Notre  Dame,  for  the  Great 
Ebor  Handicap.  Peppercorn  was  the  winner  of 
the  Newmarket,  and  his  chances  for  the  Ebor 
were  considered  a  practical  certainty. 

"  If  you  have  ever  been  to  York  you  will  have 
noticed  the  fine  houses  which  have  their  drive  and 
front  entrances  in  the  road  called  '  The  Mount,' 
and  the  gardens  of  which  extend  as  far  as  the 
racecourse,  commanding  a  lovely  view  over  the 
entire  track.  It  was  one  of  these  houses,  called 
*  The  Elms,'  which  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  had 
rented  for  the  summer. 

"  Lady  Arthur  came  down  some  little  time  be- 


THE  YORK   MYSTERY  59 

fore  the  racing  week  with  her  servants — she  had 
no  children;  but  she  had  many  relatives  and  friends 
in  York,  since  she  was  the  daughter  of  old  Sir 
John  Etty,  the  cocoa  manufacturer,  a  rigid 
Quaker,  who,  it  was  generally  said,  kept  the  tight- 
est possible  hold  on  his  own  pursestrings  and 
looked  with  marked  disfavour  upon  his  aristo- 
cratic son-in-law's  fondness  for  gaming  tables  and 
betting  books. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Maud  Etty  had  married 

the  handsome  young  lieutenant  in  the  th 

Hussars,  quite  against  her  father's  wishes.  But 
she  was  an  only  child,  and  after  a  good  deal  of 
demur  and  grumbling,  Sir  John,  who  idolised 
his  daughter,  gave  way  to  her  whim,  and  a  re- 
luctant consent  to  the  marriage  was  wrung  from 
him. 

"  But,  as  a  Yorkshireman,  he  was  far  too 
shrewd  a  man  of  the  world  not  to  know  that  love 
played  but  a  very  small  part  in  persuading  a 
Duke's  son  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  cocoa  man- 
ufacturer, and  as  long  as  he  lived  he  determined 
that  since  his  daughter  was  being  wed  because  of 
her  wealth,  that  wealth  should  at  least  secure  her 
own  happiness.  He  refused  to  give  Lady  Arthur 
any  capital,  which,  in  spite  of  the  most  care- 
fully-worded settlements,  would  inevitably,  sooner 
or  later,  have  found  its  way  into  the  pockets  of 
Lord  Arthur's  racing  friends.  But  he  made  his 
daughter  a  very  handsome  allowance,  amounting 


60          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

to  over  £3,000  a  year,  which  enabled  her  to  keep 
up  an  establishment  befitting  her  new  rank. 

"  A  great  many  of  these  facts,  intimate  enough 
as  they  are,  leaked  out,  you  see,  during  that  period 
of  intense  excitement  which  followed  the  murder 
of  Charles  Lavender,  and  when  the  public  eye  was 
fixed  searchingly  upon  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton, 
probing  all  the  inner  details  of  his  idle,  useless 
life. 

"  It  soon  became  a  matter  of  common  gossip 
that  poor  little  Lady  Arthur  continued  to  worship 
her  handsome  husband  in  spite  of  his  obvious  neg- 
lect, and  not  having  as  yet  presented  him  with  an 
heir,  she  settled  herself  down  into  a  life  of  humble 
apology  for  her  plebeian  existence,  atoning  for  it 
by  condoning  all  his  faults  and  forgiving  all  his 
vices,  even  to  the  extent  of  cloaking  them  before 
the  prying  eyes  of  Sir  John,  who  was  persuaded 
to  look  upon  his  son-in-law  as  a  paragon  of  all 
the  domestic  virtues  and  a  perfect  model  of  a 
husband. 

"Among  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton's  many  ex- 
pensive tastes  there  was  certainly  that  for  horse- 
flesh and  cards.  After  some  successful  betting  at 
the  beginning  of  his  married  life,  he  had  started 
a  racing-stable  which  it  was  generally  believed — 
as  he  was  very  lucky — was  a  regular  source  of  in- 
come to  him. 

"  Peppercorn,  however,  after  his  brilliant  per- 
formances at  Newmarket,  did  not  continue  to  ful- 


THE  YORK   MYSTERY  61 

fil  his  master's  expectations.  His  collapse  at  York 
was  attributed  to  the  hardness  of  the  course  and 
to  various  other  causes,  but  its  immediate  effect 
was  to  put  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  in  what  is 
popularly  called  a  tight  place,  for  he  had  backed 
his  horse  for  all  he  was  worth,  and  must  have 
stood  to  lose  considerably  over  £5,000  on  that 
one  day. 

"The  collapse  of  the  favourite  and  the  grand 
victory  of  King  Cole,  a  rank  outsider,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  proved  a  golden  harvest  for  the  book- 
makers, and  all  the  York  hotels  were  busy  with 
dinners  and  suppers  given  by  the  confraternity  of 
the  Turf  to  celebrate  the  happy  occasion.  The 
next  day  was  Friday,  one  of  few  important  rac- 
ing events,  after  which  the  brilliant  and  the  shady 
throng  which  had  flocked  into  the  venerable  city, 
for  the  week  would  fly  to  more  congenial  climes, 
and  leave  it,  with  its  fine  old  Minster  and  its 
ancient  walls,  as  sleepy,  as  quiet  as  before. 

"  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  also  intended  to 
leave  York  on  the  Saturday,  and  on  the  Friday 
night  he  gave  a  farewell  bachelor  dinner  party  at 
'The  Elms,'  at  which  Lady  Arthur  did  not  ap- 
pear. After  dinner  the  gentlemen  settled  down  to 
bridge,  with  pretty  stiff  points,  you  may  be  sure. 
It  had  just  struck  eleven  at  the  Minster  Tower, 
when  constables  McNaught  and  Murphy,  who 
were  patrolling  the  racecourse,  were  startled  by 
loud  cries  of  '  murder  '  and  '  police.' 


62          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Quickly  ascertaining  whence  these  cries  pro- 
ceeded, they  hurried  on  at  a  gallop,  and  came  up 
— quite  close  to  the  boundary  of  Lord  Arthur  Skel- 
merton's  grounds — upon  a  group  of  three  men, 
two  of  whom  seemed  to  be  wrestling  vigorously 
with  one  another,  whilst  the  third  was  lying  face 
downwards  on  the  ground.  As  soon  as  the  con- 
stables drew  near,  one  of  the  wrestlers  shouted 
more  vigorously,  and  with  a  certain  tone  of  au- 
thority : 

" '  Here,  you  fellows,  hurry  up,  sharp ;  the 
brute  is  giving  me  the  slip ! ' 

"  But  the  brute  did  not  seem  inclined  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  sort;  he  certainly  extricated  himself 
with  a  violent  jerk  from  his  assailant's  grasp,  but 
made  no  attempt  to  run  away.  The  constables 
had  quickly  dismounted,  whilst  he  who  had 
shouted  for  help  originally  added  more  quietly: 

"  *  My  name  is  Skelmerton.  This  is  the  bound- 
ary of  my  property.  I  was  smoking  a  cigar  at 
the  pavilion  over  there  with  a  friend  when  I 
heard  loud  voices,  followed  by  a  cry  and  a  groan. 
I  hurried  down  the  steps,  and  saw  this  poor  fellow 
lying  on  the  ground,  with  a  knife  sticking  between 
his  shoulder-blades,  and  his  murderer,'  he  added, 
pointing  to  the  man  who  stood  quietly  by  with 
Constable  McNaught's  firm  grip  upon  his  shoul- 
der, '  still  stooping  over  the  body  of  his  victim. 
I  was  too  late,  I  fear,  to  save  the  latter,  but  just 
in  time  to  grapple  with  the  assassin ' 


THE  YORK   MYSTERY  63 

"  *  It's  a  lie !  '  here  interrupted  the  man  hoarsely. 
*  I  didn't  do  it,  constable ;  I  swear  I  didn't  do  it. 
I  saw  him  fall — I  was  coming  along  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  away,  and  I  tried  to  see  if 
the  poor  fellow  was  dead.  I  swear  I  didn't 
do  it." 

"  *  You'll  have  to  explain  that  to  the  inspector 
presently,  my  man,'  was  Constable  McNaught's 
quiet  comment,  and,  still  vigorously  protesting  his 
innocence,  the  accused  allowed  himself  to  be  led 
away,  and  the  body  was  conveyed  to  the  station, 
pending  fuller  identification. 

"  The  next  morning  the  papers  were  full  of  the 
tragedy;  a  column  and  a  half  of  the  York  Herald 
was  devoted  to  an  account  of  Lord  Arthur  Skel- 
merton's  plucky  capture  of  the  assassin.  The  lat- 
ter had  continued  to  declare  his  innocence,  but  had 
remarked,  it  appears,  with  grim  humour,  that 
he  quite  saw  he  was  in  a  tight  place,  out  of  which, 
however,  he  would  find  it  easy  to  extricate  him- 
self. He  had  stated  to  the  police  that  the  de- 
ceased's name  was  Charles  Lavender,  a  well- 
known  bookmaker,  which  fact  was  soon  verified, 
for  many  of  the  murdered  man's  '  pals  '  were  still 
in  the  city. 

"  So  far  the  most  pushing  of  newspaper  re- 
porters had  been  unable  to  glean  further  informa- 
tion from  the  police;  no  one  doubted,  however, 
but  that  the  man  in  charge,  who  gave  his  name  as 
George  Higgins,  had  killed  the  bookmaker  for 


64          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

purposes  of  robbery.    The  inquest  had  been  fixed 
for  the  Tuesday  after  the  murder. 

"  Lord  Arthur  had  been  obliged  to  stay  in  York 
a  few  days,  as  his  evidence  would  be  needed.  That 
fact  gave  the  case,  perhaps,  a  certain  amount  of 
interest  as  far  as  York  and  London  *  society '  were 
concerned.  Charles  Lavender,  moreover,  was 
well  known  on  the  turf;  but  no  bombshell  ex- 
ploding beneath  the  walls  of  the  ancient  cathedral 
city  could  more  have  astonished  its  inhabitants 
than  the  news  which,  at  about  five  in  the  after- 
noon on  the  day  of  the  inquest,  spread  like  wild- 
fire throughout  the  town.  That  news  was  that 
the  inquest  had  concluded  at  three  o'clock  with  a 
verdict  of  'Wilful  murder  against  some  person 
or  persons  unknown,'  and  that  two  hours  later  the 
police  had  arrested  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  at 
his  private  residence,  'The  Elms,'  and  charged 
him  on  a  warrant  with  the  murder  of  Charles 
Lavender,  the  bookmaker." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   CAPITAL   CHARGE 

"  THE  police,  it  appears,  instinctively  feeling  that 
some  mystery  lurked  round  the  death  of  the  book- 
maker and  his  supposed  murderer's  quiet  protes- 
tations of  innocence,  had  taken  a  very  considerable 
amount  of  trouble  in  collecting  all  the  evidence 
they  could  for  the  inquest  which  might  throw  some 
light  upon  Charles  Lavender's  life,  previous  to  his 
tragic  end.  Thus  it  was  that  a  very  large  array 
of  witnesses  was  brought  before  the  coroner,  chief 
among  whom  was,  of  course,  Lord  Arthur  Skel- 
merton. 

"The  first  witnesses  called  were  the  two  con- 
stables, who  deposed  that,  just  as  the  church 
clocks  in  the  neighbourhood  were  striking  eleven, 
they  had  heard  the  cries  for  help,  had  ridden  to 
the  spot  whence  the  sounds  proceeded,  and  had 
found  the  prisoner  in  the  tight  grasp  of  Lord 
Arthur  Skelmerton,  who  at  once  accused  the  man 
of  murder,  and  gave  him  in  charge.  Both  con- 
stables gave  the  same  version  of  the  incident,  and 
both  were  positive  as  to  the  time  when  it  occurred. 

"  Medical  evidence  went  to  prove  that  the  de- 
ceased had  been  stabbed  from  behind  between  the 

65 


66          THE   MAN   IN   THE  CORNER 

shoulder  blades  whilst  he  was  walking,  that  the 
wound  was  inflicted  by  a  large  hunting  knife, 
which  was  produced,  and  which  had  been  left  stick- 
ing in  the  wound. 

"  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  was  then  called  and 
substantially  repeated  what  he  had  already  told 
the  constables.  He  stated,  namely,  that  on  the 
night  in  question  he  had  some  gentlemen  friends 
to  dinner,  and  afterwards  bridge  was  played.  He 
himself  was  not  playing  much,  and  at  a  few  min- 
utes before  eleven  he  strolled  out  with  a  cigar  as 
far  as  the  pavilion  at  the  end  of  his  garden;  he 
then  heard  the  voices,  the  cry  and  the  groan  pre- 
viously described  by  him,  and  managed  to  hold  the 
murderer  down  until  the  arrival  of  the  constables. 

"  At  this  point  the  police  proposed  to  call  a 
witness,  James  Terry  by  name  and  a  bookmaker 
by  profession,  who  had  been  chiefly  instrumental 
in  identifying  the  deceased,  a  '  pal '  of  his.  It 
was  his  evidence  which  first  introduced  that  ele- 
ment of  sensation  into  the  case  which  culminated 
in  the  wildly  exciting  arrest  of  a  Duke's  son  upon 
a  capital  charge. 

"  It  appears  that  on  the  evening  after  the  Ebor, 
Terry  and  Lavender  were  in  the  bar  of  the  Black 
Swan  Hotel  having  drinks. 

1 1  had  done  pretty  well  over  Peppercorn's 
fiasco,'  he  explained,  *  but  poor  old  Lavender  was 
very  much  down  in  the  dumps;  he  had  held  only 
a  few  very  small  bets  against  the  favourite,  and 


THE    CAPITAL    CHARGE  67 

the  rest  of  the  day  had  been  a  poor  one  with  him. 
I  asked  him  if  he  had  any  bets  with  the  owner  of 
Peppercorn,  and  he  told  me  that  he  only  held  one 
for  less  than  £500. 

"  *  I  laughed  and  said  that  if  he  held  one  for 
£5000  it  would  make  no  difference,  as  from  what 
I  had  heard  from  the  other  fellows,  Lord  Arthur 
Skelmerton  must  be  about  stumped.  Lavender 
seemed  terribly  put  out  at  this,  and  swore  he  would 
get  that  £500  out  of  Lord  Arthur,  if  no  one  else 
got  another  penny  from  him. 

"  '  It's  the  only  money  I've  made  to-day,'  he 
says  to  me.  '  I  mean  to  get  it.' 

"  '  You  won't,'  I  says. 

"  '  I  will,'  he  says. 

"  *  You  will  have  to  look  pretty  sharp  about  it 
then,'  I  says,  '  for  every  one  will  be  wanting  to  get 
something,  and  first  come  first  served.' 

4  Oh !  He'll  serve  me  right  enough,  never 
you  mind ! '  says  Lavender  to  me  with  a  laugh. 
*  If  he  don't  pay  up  willingly,  I've  got  that  in 
my  pocket  which  will  make  him  sit  up  and  open 
my  lady's  eyes  and  Sir  John  Etty's  too  about  their 
precious  noble  lord.' 

"  *  Then  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  gone  too 
far,  and  wouldn't  say  anything  more  to  me  about 
that  affair.  I  saw  him  on  the  course  the  next  day. 
I  asked  him  if  he  had  got  his  £500.  He  said: 
"No,  but  I  shall  get  it  to-day."  ' 

"  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton,  after  having  given 


'68          THE   MAN   IN   THE  CORNER 

his  own  evidence,  had  left  the  court;  it  was  there- 
fore impossible  to  know  how  he  would  take  this 
account,  which  threw  so  serious  a  light  upon  an 
association  with  the  dead  man,  of  which  he  him- 
self had  said  nothing. 

"  Nothing  could  shake  James  Terry's  account 
of  the  facts  he  had  placed  before  the  jury,  and 
when  the  police  informed  the  coroner  that  they 
proposed  to  place  George  Higgins  himself  in  the 
witness  box,  as  his  evidence  would  prove,  as  it 
were,  a  complement  and  corollary  of  that  of 
Terry,  the  jury  very  eagerly  assented. 

"  If  James  Terry,  the  bookmaker,  loud,  florid, 
vulgar,  was  an  unprepossessing  individual,  cer- 
tainly George  Higgins,  who  was  still  under  the 
accusation  of  murder,  was  ten  thousand  times 
more  so. 

"  None  too  clean,  slouchy,  obsequious  yet  in- 
solent, he  was  the  very  personification  of  the  cad 
who  haunts  the  racecourse  and  who  lives  not  so 
much  by  his  own  wits  as  by  the  lack  of  them  in 
others.  He  described  himself  as  a  turf  commis- 
sion agent,  whatever  that  may  be. 

"  He  stated  that  at  about  six  o'clock  on  the 
Friday  afternoon,  when  the  racecourse  was  still 
full  of  people,  all  hurrying  after  the  day's  excite- 
ments, he  himself  happened  to  be  standing  close 
to  the  hedge  which  marks  the  boundary  of  Lord 
Arthur  Skelmerton's  grounds.  There  is  a  pavilion 
there  at  the  end  of  the  garden,  he  explained,  on 


THE   CAPITAL   CHARGE  69 

slightly  elevated  ground,  and  he  could  hear  and 
see  a  group  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  having  tea. 
Some  steps  lead  down  a  little  to  the  left  of  the 
garden  on  to  the  course,  and  presently  he  noticed 
at  the  bottom  of  these  steps  Lord  Arthur  Skel- 
merton  and  Charles  Lavender  standing  talking  to- 
gether. He  knew  both  gentlemen  by  sight,  but 
he  could  not  see  them  very  well  as  they  were  both 
partly  hidden  by  the  hedge.  He  was  quite  sure 
that  the  gentlemen  had  not  seen  him,  and  he 
could  not  help  overhearing  some  of  their  conver- 
sation. 

"  *  That's  my  last  word,  Lavender,*  Lord 
Arthur  was  saying  very  quietly.  '  I  haven't  got 
the  money  and  I  can't  pay  you  now.  You'll  have 
to  wait.' 

"'Wait?  I  can't  wait,'  said  old  Lavender  in 
reply.  *  I've  got  my  engagements  to  meet,  same 
as  you.  I'm  not  going  to  risk  being  posted  up  as 
a  defaulter  while  you  hold  £500  of  my  money. 
You'd  better  give  it  me  now  or ' 

"  But  Lord  Arthur  interrupted  him  very  quietly, 
and  said: 

*  Yes,  my  good  man    .    .    .     or?' 

" '  Or  I'll  let  Sir  John  have  a  good  look  at 
that  little  bill  I  had  of  yours  a  couple  of  years 
ago.  If  you'll  remember,  my  lord,  it  has  got  at 
the  bottom  of  it  Sir  John's  signature  in  your 
handwriting.  Perhaps  Sir  John,  or  perhaps  my 
lady,  would  pay  me  something  for  that  little  bill. 


70  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

If  not,  the  police  can  have  a  squint  at  it.  I've 
held  my  tongue  long  enough,  and ' 

" '  Look  here,  Lavender,'  said  Lord  Arthur, 
4  do  you  know  what  this  little  game  of  yours  is 
called  in  law? ' 

"  *  Yes,  and  I  don't  care,'  says  Lavender.  *  If 
I  don't  have  that  £500  I  am  a  ruined  man.  If 
you  ruin  me  I'll  do  for  you,  and  we  shall  be  quits. 
That's  my  last  word.' 

"He  was  talking  very  loudly,  and  I  thought 
some  of  Lord  Arthur's  friends  up  in  the  pavilion 
must  have  heard.  He  thought  so,  too,  I  think, 
for  he  said  quickly: 

"  *  If  you  don't  hold  your  confounded  tongue, 
I'll  give  you  in  charge  for  blackmail  this  instant.' 

" '  You  wouldn't  dare,'  says  Lavender,  and  he 
began  to  laugh.  But  just  then  a  lady  from  the 
top  of  the  steps  said :  *  Your  tea  is  getting  cold,' 
and  Lord  Arthur  turned  to  go;  but  just  before  he 
went  Lavender  says  to  him :  *  I'll  come  back  to- 
night. You'll  have  the  money  then.' 

"  George  Higgins,  it  appears,  after  he  had 
heard  this  interesting  conversation,  pondered  as  to 
whether  he  could  not  turn  what  he  knew  into  some 
sort  of  profit.  Being  a  gentleman  who  lives  en- 
tirely by  his  wits,  this  type  of  knowledge  forms 
his  chief  source  of  income.  As  a  preliminary  to 
future  moves,  he  decided  not  to  lose  sight  of 
Lavender  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

"  *  Lavender  went  and  had  dinner  at  the  Black 


THE    CAPITAL   CHARGE  71 

Swan,'  explained  Mr.  George  Higgins,  '  and  I, 
after  I  had  had  a  bite  myself,  waited  outside  till  I 
saw  him  come  out.  At  about  ten  o'clock  I  was  re- 
warded for  my  trouble.  He  told  the  hall  porter 
to  get  him  a  fly  and  he  jumped  into  it.  I  could 
not  hear  what  direction  he  gave  the  driver,  but 
the  fly  certainly  drove  off  towards  the  racecourse. 

" '  Now,  I  was  interested  in  this  little  affair,' 
continued  the  witness,  '  and  I  couldn't  afford  a 
fly.  I  started  to  run.  Of  course,  I  couldn't  keep 
up  with  it,  but  I  thought  I  knew  which  way  my 
gentleman  had  gone.  I  made  straight  for  the 
racecourse,  and  for  the  hedge  at  the  bottom  of 
Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton's  grounds. 

"  *  It  was  rather  a  dark  night  and  there  was 
a  slight  drizzle.  I  couldn't  see  more  than  about 
a  hundred  yards  before  me.  All  at  once  it  seemed 
to  me  as  if  I  heard  Lavender's  voice  talking 
loudly  in  the  distance.  I  hurried  forward,  and 
suddenly  saw  a  group  of  two  figures — mere  blurs 
in  the  darkness — for  one  instant,  at  a  distance  of 
about  fifty  yards  from  where  I  was. 

'The  next  moment  one  figure  had  fallen  for- 
ward and  the  other  had  disappeared.  I  ran  to 
the  spot,  only  to  find  the  body  of  the  murdered 
man  lying  on  the  ground.  I  stooped  to  see  if  I 
could  be  of  any  use  to  him,  and  immediately  I  was 
collared  from  behind  by  Lord  Arthur  himself.' 

*  You  may  imagine,"  said  the  man  in  the  cor- 
ner, "  how  keen  was  the  excitement  of  that  moment 


72  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

in  court.  Coroner  and  jury  alike  literally  hung 
breathless  on  every  word  that  shabby,  vulgar  in- 
dividual uttered.  You  see,  by  itself  his  evidence 
would  have  been  worth  very  little,  but  coming  on 
the  top  of  that  given  by  James  Terry,  its  signifi- 
cance— more,  its  truth — had  become  glaringly  ap- 
parent. Closely  cross-examined,  he  adhered 
strictly  to  his  statement;  and  having  finished  his 
evidence,  George  Higgins  remained  in  charge  of 
the  constables,  and  the  next  witness  of  importance 
was  called  up. 

"  This  was  Mr.  Chipps,  the  senior  footman  in 
the  employment  of  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton.  He 
deposed  that  about  10.30  on  the  Friday  evening 
a  '  party '  drove  up  to  *  The  Elms '  in  a  fly,  and 
asked  to  see  Lord  Arthur.  On  being  told  that  his 
lordship  had  company  he  seemed  terribly  put  out. 

"  *  I  hasked  the  party  to  give  me  'is  card,'  con- 
tinued Mr.  Chipps,  'as  I  didn't  know,  perhaps, 
that  'is  lordship  might  wish  to  see  'im,  but  I  kept 
'im  standing  at  the  'all  door,  as  I  didn't  alto- 
gether like  his  looks.  I  took  the  card  in.  His 
lordship  and  the  gentlemen  was  playin'  cards  in 
the  smoking-room,  and  as  soon  as  I  could  do  so 
without  disturbing  'is  lordship,  I  give  'im  the 
party's  card.' 

"'What  name  was  there  on  the  card?'  here 
interrupted  the  coroner. 

" '  I  could  not  say  now,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Chipps; 
*  I  don't  really  remember.  It  was  a  name  I  had 


THE    CAPITAL   CHARGE  73 

never  seen  before.  But  I  see  so  many  visiting 
cards  one  way  and  the  other  in  'is  lordship's  'all 
that  I  can't  remember  all  the  names.' 

" '  Then,  after  a  few  minutes'  waiting,  you  gave 
his  lordship  the  card?  What  happened  then?' 

"  '  'Is  lordship  didn't  seem  at  all  pleased,'  said 
Mr.  Chipps  with  much  guarded  dignity;  'but 
finally  he  said:  "Show  him  into  the  library, 
Chipps,  I'll  see  him,"  and  he  got  up  from  the 
card  table,  saying  to  the  gentlemen :  "  Go  on 
without  me;  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute  or  two." 

" '  I  was  about  to  open  the  door  for  'is  lord- 
ship when  my  lady  came  into  the  room,  and  then 
'is  lordship  suddenly  changed  'is  mind  like,  and 
said  to  me:  "Tell  that  man  I'm  busy  and  can't 
see  him,"  and  'e  sat  down  again  at  the  card 
table.  I  went  back  to  the  'all,  and  told  the  party 
'is  lordship  wouldn't  see  'im.  'E  said:  "Oh! 
it  doesn't  matter,"  and  went  away  quite  quiet  like.' 

" '  Do  you  recollect  at  all  at  what  time  that 
was?'  asked  one  of  the  jury. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,  while  I  was  waiting  to  speak  to  'is 
lordship  I  looked  at  the  clock,  sir;  it  was  twenty 
past  ten,  sir.' 

"  There  was  one  more  significant  fact  in  con- 
nection with  the  case,  which  tended  still  more  to 
excite  the  curiosity  of  the  public  at  the  time,  and 
still  further  to  bewilder  the  police  later  on,  and 
that  fact  was  mentioned  by  Chipps  in  his  evidence. 
The  knife,  namely,  with  which  Charles  Lavender 


74          THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

had  been  stabbed,  and  which,  remember,  had  been 
left  in  the  wound,  was  now  produced  in  court. 
After  a  little  hesitation  Chipps  identified  it  as  the 
property  of  his  master,  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton. 

"  Can  you  wonder,  then,  that  the  jury  abso- 
lutely refused  to  bring  in  a  verdict  against  George 
Higgins  ?  There  was  really,  beyond  Lord  Arthur 
Skelmerton's  testimony,  not  one  particle  of  evi- 
dence against  him,  whilst,  as  the  day  wore  on  and 
witness  after  witness  was  called  up,  suspicion  rip- 
ened in  the  minds  of  all  those  present  that  the 
murderer  could  be  no  other  than  Lord  Arthur 
Skelmerton  himself. 

"  The  knife  was,  of  course,  the  strongest  piece 
of  circumstantial  evidence,  and  no  doubt  the 
police  hoped  to  collect  a  great  deal  more  now 
that  they  held  a  clue  in  their  hands.  Directly 
after  the  verdict,  therefore,  which  was  guardedly 
directed  against  some  person  unknown,  the  police 
obtained  a  warrant  and  later  on  arrested  Lord 
Arthur  in  his  own  house. 

''The  sensation,  of  course,  was  tremendous. 
Hours  before  he  was  brought  up  before  the 
magistrate  the  approach  to  the  court  was 
thronged.  His  friends,  mostly  ladies,  were  all 
eager,  you  see,  to  watch  the  dashing  society  man 
in  so  terrible  a  position.  There  was  universal 
sympathy  for  Lady  Arthur,  who  was  in  a  very 
precarious  state  of  health.  Her  worship  of  her 
worthless  husband  was  well  known ;  small  wonder 


THE    CAPITAL   CHARGE  75 

that  his  final  and  awful  misdeed  had  practically 
broken  her  heart.  The  latest  bulletin  issued  just 
after  his  arrest  stated  that  her  ladyship  was  not 
expected  to  live.  She  was  then  in  a  comatose  con- 
dition, and  all  hope  had  perforce  to  be  abandoned. 

"  At  last  the  prisoner  was  brought  in.  He 
looked  very  pale,  perhaps,  but  otherwise  kept  up 
the  bearing  of  a  high-bred  gentleman.  He  was 
accompanied  by  his  solicitor,  Sir  Marmaduke 
Ingersoll,  who  was  evidently  talking  to  him  in 
quiet,  reassuring  tones. 

"  Mr.  Buchanan  prosecuted  for  the  Treasury, 
and  certainly  his  indictment  was  terrific.  Accord- 
ing to  him  but  one  decision  could  be  arrived  at, 
namely,  that  the  accused  in  the  dock  had,  in  a 
moment  of  passion,  and  perhaps  of  fear,  killed 
the  blackmailer  who  threatened  him  with  dis- 
closures which  might  for  ever  have  ruined  him 
socially,  and,  having  committed  the  deed  and  fear- 
ing its  consequences,  probably  realising  that  the 
patrolling  constables  might  catch  sight  of  his  re- 
treating figure,  he  had  availed  himself  of  George 
Higgins's  presence  on  the  spot  to  loudly  accuse 
him  of  the  murder. 

"  Having  concluded  his  able  speech,  Mr. 
Buchanan  called  his  witnesses,  and  the  evidence, 
which  on  second  hearing  seemed  more  damning 
than  ever,  was  all  gone  through  again. 

"  Sir  Marmaduke  had  no  question  to  ask  of  the 
witnesses  for  the  prosecution;  he  stared  at  them 


76          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

placidly  through  his  gold-rimmed  spectacles. 
Then  he  was  ready  to  call  his  own  for  the  de- 
fence. Colonel  Mclntosh,  R.  A.,  was  the  first. 
He  was  present  at  the  bachelors'  party  given  by 
Lord  Arthur  the  night  of  the  murder.  His  evi- 
dence tended  at  first  to  corroborate  that  of  Chipps, 
the  footman,  with  regard  to  Lord  Arthur's  orders 
to  show  the  visitor  into  the  library,  and  his  coun- 
ter-order as  soon  as  his  wife  came  into  the  room. 

"'Did  you  not  think  it  strange,  Colonel?' 
asked  Mr.  Buchanan,  *  that  Lord  Arthur  should 
so  suddenly  have  changed  his  mind  about  seeing 
his  visitor?' 

."'Well,  not  exactly  strange,'  said  the  Colonel, 
a  fine,  manly,  soldierly  figure  who  looked  curiously 
out  of  his  element  in  the  witness-box.  *  I  don't 
think  that  it  is  a  very  rare  occurrence  for  racing 
men  to  have  certain  acquaintances  whom  they 
would  not  wish  their  wives  to  know  anything 
about?' 

4  Then  it  did  not  strike  you  that  Lord  Arthur 
Skelmerton  had  some  reason  for  not  wishing  his 
"wife  to  know  of  that  particular  visitor's  presence 
in  his  house?' 

'I  don't  think  that  I  gave  the  matter  the 
slightest  serious  consideration,'  was  the  Colonel's 
guarded  reply. 

"  Mr.  Buchanan  did  not  press  the  point,  and 
allowed  the  witness  to  conclude  his  statements. 

"  *  I  had  finished  my  turn  at  bridge,'  he  said, 


THE   CAPITAL   CHARGE  77 

*  and  went  out  into  the  garden  to  smoke  a  cigar. 
Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  joined  me  a  few  minutes 
later,  and  we  were  sitting  in  the  pavilion  when 
I  heard  a  loud  and,  as  I  thought,  threatening 
voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  hedge. 

"  *  I  did  not  catch  the  words,  but  Lord  Arthur 
said  to  me:  "There  seems  to  be  a  row  down 
there.  I'll  go  and  have  a  look  and  see  what  it 
is."  I  tried  to  dissuade  him,  and  certainly  made 
no  attempt  to  follow  him,  but  not  more  than  half 
a  minute  could  have  elapsed  before  I  heard  a  cry 
and  a  groan,  then  Lord  Arthur's  footsteps  hurry- 
ing down  the  wooden  stairs  which  lead  on  to  the 
racecourse.' 

"  You  may  imagine,"  said  the  man  in  the  cor- 
ner, "  what  severe  cross-examination  the  gallant 
Colonel  had  to  undergo  in  order  that  his  assertions 
might  in  some  way  be  shaken  by  the  prosecution, 
but  with  military  precision  and  frigid  calm  he  re- 
peated his  important  statements  amidst  a  general 
silence,  through  which  you  could  have  heard  the 
proverbial  pin. 

"  He  had  heard  the  threatening  voice  while 
sitting  with  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton;  then  came 
the  cry  and  groan,  and,  after  that,  Lord  Arthur's 
steps  down  the  stairs.  He  himself  thought  of 
following  to  see  what  had  happened,  but  it  was  a 
very  dark  night  and  he  did  not  know  the  grounds 
very  well.  While  trying  to  find  his  way  to  the 
garden  steps  he  heard  Lord  Arthur's  cry  for  help, 


78  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

the  tramp  of  the  patrolling  constables'  horses,  and 
subsequently  the  whole  scene  between  Lord  Ar- 
thur, the  man  Higgins,  and  the  constables.  When 
he  finally  found  his  way  to  the  stairs,  Lord  Arthur 
was  returning  in  order  to  send  a  groom  for  police 
assistance. 

"The  witness  stuck  to  his  points  as  he  had  to 
his  guns  at  Beckfontein  a  year  ago ;  nothing  could 
shake  him,  and  Sir  Marmaduke  looked  triumph- 
antly across  at  his  opposing  colleague. 

"With  the  gallant  Colonel's  statements  the 
edifice  of  the  prosecution  certainly  began  to  col- 
lapse. You  see,  there  was  not  a  particle  of  evi- 
dence to  show  that  the  accused  had  met  and 
spoken  to  the  deceased  after  the  latter's  visit  at 
the  front  door  of  'The  Elms.'  He  told  Chipps 
that  he  wouldn't  see  the  visitor,  and  Chipps  went 
into  the  hall  directly  and  showed  Lavender  out 
the  way  he  came.  No  assignation  could  have  been 
made,  no  hint  could  have  been  given  by  the  mur- 
dered man  to  Lord  Arthur  that  he  would  go  round 
to  the  back  entrance  and  wished  to  see  him  there. 

"Two  other  guests  of  Lord  Arthur's  swore 
positively  that  after  Chipps  had  announced  the 
visitor,  their  host  stayed  at  the  card-table  until  a 
quarter  to  eleven,  when  evidently  he  went  out  to 
join  Colonel  Mclntosh  in  the  garden.  Sir  Mar- 
maduke's  speech  was  clever  in  the  extreme.  Bit 
by  bit  he  demolished  that  tower  of  strength,  the 
case  against  the  accused,  basing  his  defence  en- 


THE    CAPITAL    CHARGE  79 

tirely  upon  the  evidence  of  Lord  Arthur  Skelmer- 
ton's  guests  that  night. 

"Until  10.45  Lord  Arthur  was  playing  cards; 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  police  were  on  the 
scene,  and  the  murder  had  been  committed.  In 
the  meanwhile  Colonel  Mclntosh's  evidence 
proved  conclusively  that  the  accused  had  been  sit- 
ting with  him,  smoking  a  cigar.  It  was  obvious, 
therefore,  clear  as  daylight,  concluded  the  great 
lawyer,  that  his  client  was  entitled  to  a  full  dis- 
charge; nay,  more,  he  thought  that  the  police 
should  have  been  more  careful  before  they  har- 
rowed up  public  feeling  by  arresting  a  high-born 
gentleman  on  such  insufficient  evidence  as  they  had 
brought  forward. 

'  The  question  of  the  knife  remained  certainly, 
but  Sir  Marmaduke  passed  over  it  with  guarded 
eloquence,  placing  that  strange  question  in  the 
category  of  those  inexplicable  coincidents  which 
tend  to  puzzle  the  ablest  detectives,  and  cause 
them  to  commit  such  unpardonable  blunders  as 
the  present  one  had  been.  After  all,  the  footman 
may  have  been  mistaken.  The  pattern  of  that 
knife  was  not  an  exclusive  one,  and  he,  on  behalf 
of  his  client,  flatly  denied  that  it  had  ever  belonged 
to  him. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  with 
the  chuckle  peculiar  to  him  in  moments  of  excite- 
ment, "  the  noble  prisoner  was  discharged.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  invidious  to  say  that  he  left  the 


8o          THE   MAN   IN   THE  CORNER 

court  without  a  stain  on  his  character,  for  I  dare- 
say you  know  from  experience  that  the  crime 
known  as  the  York  Mystery  has  never  been  satis- 
factorily cleared  up. 

"  Many  people  shook  their  heads  dubiously 
when  they  remembered  that,  after  all,  Charles 
Lavender  was  killed  with  a  knife  which  one  wit- 
ness had  sworn  belonged  to  Lord  Arthur;  others, 
again,  reverted  to  the  original  theory  that  George 
Higgins  was  the  murderer,  that  he  and  James 
Terry  had  concocted  the  story  of  Lavender's  at- 
tempt at  blackmail  on  Lord  Arthur,  and  that  the 
murder  had  been  committed  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  robbery. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  police  have  not  so  far 
been  able  to  collect  sufficient  evidence  against  Hig- 
gins or  Terry,  and  the  crime  has  been  classed  by 
press  and  public  alike  in  the  category  of  so-called 
impenetrable  mysteries." 


CHAPTER    IX 

A  BROKEN-HEARTED  WOMAN 

THE  man  in  the  corner  called  for  another  glass  of 
milk,  and  drank  it  down  slowly  before  he  resumed: 

"Now  Lord  Arthur  lives  mostly  abroad,"  he 
said.  "  His  poor,  suffering  wife  died  the  day 
after  he  was  liberated  by  the  magistrate.  She 
never  recovered  consciousness  even  sufficiently  to 
hear  the  joyful  news  that  the  man  she  loved  so 
well  was  innocent  after  all. 

"  Mystery  1  "  he  added  as  if  in  answer  to  Polly's 
own  thoughts.  "  The  murder  of  that  man  was 
never  a  mystery  to  me.  I  cannot  understand  how 
the  police  could  have  been  so  blind  when  every 
one  of  the  witnesses,  both  for  the  prosecution  and 
defence,  practically  pointed  all  the  time  to  the  one 
guilty  person.  What  do  you  think  of  it  all  your- 
self?" 

"  I  think  the  whole  case  so  bewildering,"  she 
replied,  "  that  I  do  not  see  one  single  clear  point 
in  it." 

"You  don't?  "  he  said  excitedly,  while  the  bony 
fingers  fidgeted  again  with  that  inevitable  bit  of 
string.  "You  don't  see  that  there  is  one  point 
clear  which  to  me  was  the  key  of  the  whole  thing. 

"Lavender  was  murdered,  wasn't  he?    Lord 

81 


82  THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

Arthur  did  not  kill  him.  He  had,  at  least,  in 
Colonel  Mclntosh  an  unimpeachable  witness  to 
prove  that  he  could  not  have  committed  that 
murder — and  yet,"  he  added  with  slow,  excited 
emphasis,  marking  each  sentence  with  a  knot, 
"  and  yet  he  deliberately  tries  to  throw  the  guilt 
upon  a  man  who  obviously  was  also  innocent. 
Now  why?" 

"  He  may  have  thought  him  guilty." 

"  Or  wished  to  shield  or  cover  the  retreat  of 
one  he  knew  to  be  guilty" 

"I  don't  understand." 

"  Think  of  someone,"  he  said  excitedly,  "  some- 
one whose  desire  would  be  as  great  as  that  of 
Lord  Arthur  to  silence  a  scandal  round  that  gen- 
tleman's name.  Someone  who,  unknown  perhaps 
to  Lord  Arthur,  had  overheard  the  same  conver- 
sation which  George  Higgins  related  to  the  police 
and  the  magistrate,  someone  who,  whilst  Chipps 
was  taking  Lavender's  card  in  to  his  master  had  a 
few  minutes'  time  wherein  to  make  an  assignation 
with  Lavender,  promising  him  money,  no  doubt, 
in  exchange  for  the  compromising  bills." 

"  Surely  you  don't  mean "  gasped  Polly. 

"  Point  number  one,"  he  interrupted  quietly, 
"  utterly  missed  by  the  police.  George  Higgins  in 
his  deposition  stated  that  at  the  most  animated 
stage  of  Lavender's  conversation  with  Lord  Ar- 
thur, and  when  the  bookmaker's  tone  of  voice  be- 
came loud  and  threatening,  a  voice  from  the  top 


A   BROKEN-HEARTED   WOMAN          83 

of  the  steps  interrupted  that  conversation,  saying: 
'  Your  tea  is  getting  cold.' ' 

"  Yes — but "  she  argued. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  for  there  is  point  number  two, 
That  voice  was  a  lady's  voice.  Now,  I  did  exactly 
what  the  police  should  have  done,  but  did  not  do. 
I  went  to  have  a  look  from  the  racecourse  side  at 
those  garden  steps  which  to  my  mind  are  such 
important  factors  in  the  discovery  of  this  crime. 
I  found  only  about  a  dozen  rather  low  steps ;  any- 
one standing  on  the  top  must  have  heard  every 
word  Charles  Lavender  uttered  the  moment  he 
raised  his  voice." 

»  Even  then " 

"  Very  well,  you  grant  that,"  he  said  excitedly. 
"  Then  there  was  the  great,  the  all-important 
point  which,  oddly  enough,  the  prosecution  never 
for  a  moment  took  into  consideration.  When 
Chipps,  the  footman,  first  told  Lavender  that  Lord 
Arthur  could  not  see  him  the  bookmaker  was  ter- 
ribly put  out;  Chipps  then  goes  to  speak  to  his 
master ;  a  few  minutes  elapse,  and  when  the  foot- 
man once  again  tells  Lavender  that  his  lordship 
won't  see  him,  the  latter  says  '  Very  well,*  and 
seems  to  treat  the  matter  with  complete  indiffer- 
ence. 

"  Obviously,  therefore,  something  must  have 
happened  in  between  to  alter  the  bookmaker's 
frame  of  mind.  Well!  What  had  happened? 
Think  over  all  the  evidence,  and  you  will  see  that 


84          THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

one  thing  only  had  occurred  in  the  interval, 
namely,  Lady  Arthur's  advent  into  the  room. 

*'  In  order  to  go  into  the  smoking-room  she 
must  have  crossed  the  hall;  she  must  have  seen 
Lavender.  In  that  brief  interval  she  must  have 
realised  that  the  man  was  persistent,  and  therefore 
a  living  danger  to  her  husband.  Remember, 
women  have  done  strange  things;  they  are  a  far 
greater  puzzle  to  the  student  of  human  nature  than 
the  sterner,  less  complex  sex  has  ever  been.  As  I 
argued  before — as  the  police  should  have  argued 
all  along — why  did  Lord  Arthur  deliberately  ac- 
cuse an  innocent  man  of  murder  if  not  to  shield 
the  guilty  one? 

"  Remember,  Lady  Arthur  may  have  been  dis- 
covered; the  man,  George  Higgins,  may  have 
caught  sight  of  her  before  she  had  time  to  make 
good  her  retreat.  His  attention,  as  well  as  that 
of  the  constables,  had  to  be  diverted.  Lord  Ar- 
thur acted  on  the  blind  impulse  of  saving  his  wife 
at  any  cost." 

"  She  may  have  been  met  by  Colonel  Mc- 
Intosh,"  argued  Polly. 

"Perhaps  she  was,"  he  said.  "Who  knows? 
The  gallant  colonel  had  to  swear  to  his  friend's 
innocence.  He  could  do  that  in  all  conscience — 
after  that  his  duty  was  accomplished.  No  inno- 
cent man  was  suffering  for  the  guilty.  The  knife 
which  had  belonged  to  Lord  Arthur  would  always 
save  George  Higgins.  For  a  time  it  had  pointed 


A  BROKEN-HEARTED  WOMAN         85 

to  the  husband;  fortunately  never  to  the  wife. 
Poor  thing,  she  died  probably  of  a  broken  heart, 
but  women  when  they  love,  think  only  of  one  ob- 
ject on  earth — the  one  who  is  beloved. 

"  To  me  the  whole  thing  was  clear  from  the 
very  first.  When  I  read  the  account  of  the  mur- 
der— the  knife!  stabbing! — bah!  Don't  I  know 
enough  of  English  crime  not  to  be  certain  at  once 
that  no  Englishman,  be  he  ruffian  from  the  gutter 
or  be  he  Duke's  son,  ever  stabs  his  victim  in  the 
back.  Italians,  French,  Spaniards  do  it,  if  you 
will,  and  women  of  most  nations.  An  English- 
man's instinct  is  to  strike  and  not  to  stab.  George 
Higgins  or  Lord  Arthur  Skelmerton  would  have 
knocked  their  victim  down ;  the  woman  only  would 
lie  in  wait  till  the  enemy's  back  was  turned.  She 
knows  her  weakness,  and  she  does  not  mean  to 
miss. 

"  Think  it  over.  There  is  not  one  flaw  in  my 
argument,  but  the  police  never  thought  the  matter 
out — perhaps  in  this  case  it  was  as  well." 

He  had  gone  and  left  Miss  Polly  Burton  still 
staring  at  the  photograph  of  a  pretty,  gentle-look- 
ing woman,  with  a  decided  wilful  curve  round  the 
mouth,  and  a  strange  unaccountable  look  in  the 
large  pathetic  eyes;  and  the  little  journalist  felt 
quite  thankful  that  in  this  case  the  murder  of 
Charles  Lavender  the  bookmaker — cowardly, 
wicked  as  it  was — had  remained  a  mystery  to  the 
police  and  the  public. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  DEATH  ON  THE  UNDERGROUND 
RAILWAY 

IT  was  all  very  well  for  Mr.  Richard  Frobisher 
(of  the  London  Mail)  to  cut  up  rough  about  it. 
Polly  did  not  altogether  blame  him. 

She  liked  him  all  the  better  for  that  frank  out- 
burst of  manlike  ill-temper  which,  after  all  said 
and  done,  was  only  a  very  flattering  form  of 
masculine  jealousy. 

Moreover,  Polly  distinctly  felt  guilty  about  the 
whole  thing.  She  had  promised  to  meet  Dickie — 
that  is  Mr.  Richard  Frobisher — at  two  o'clock 
sharp  outside  the  Palace  Theatre,  because  she 
wanted  to  go  to  a  Maud  Allan  matinee,  and  be- 
cause he  naturally  wished  to  go  with  her. 

But  at  two  o'clock  sharp  she  was  still  in  Nor- 
folk Street,  Strand,  inside  an  A.  B.  C.  shop,  sip- 
ping cold  coffee  opposite  a  grotesque  old  man  who 
was  fiddling  with  a  bit  of  string. 

How  could  she  be  expected  to  remember  Maud 
Allan  or  the  Palace  Theatre,  or  Dickie  himself 
for  a  matter  of  that?  The  man  in  the  corner 
had  begun  to  talk  of  that  mysterious  death  on 
the  underground  railway,  and  Polly  had  lost 
count  of  time,  of  place,  and  circumstance. 

86 


DEATH   ON   THE   UNDERGROUND      87 

She  had  gone  to  lunch  quite  early,  for  she  was 
looking  forward  to  the  matinee  at  the  Palace. 

The  old  scarecrow  was  sitting  in  his  accustomed 
place  when  she  came  into  the  A.  B.  C.  shop,  but 
he  had  made  no  remark  all  the  time  that  the  young 
girl  was  munching  her  scone  and  butter.  She  was 
just  busy  thinking  how  rude  he  was  not  even  to 
have  said  "  Good  morning,"  when  an  abrupt  re- 
mark from  him  caused  her  to  look  up. 

"  Will  you  be  good  enough,"  he  said  suddenly, 
"to  give  me  a  description  of  the  man  who  sat 
next  to  you  just  now,  while  you  were  having  your 
cup  of  coffee  and  scone." 

Involuntarily  Polly  turned  her  head  towards  the 
distant  door,  through  which  a  man  in  a  light  over- 
coat was  even  now  quickly  passing.  That  man 
had  certainly  sat  at  the  next  table  to  hers,  when 
she  first  sat  down  to  her  coffee  and  scone:  he  had 
finished  his  luncheon — whatever  it  was — a  moment 
ago,  had  paid  at  the  desk  and  gone  out.  The  in- 
cident did  not  appear  to  Polly  as  being  of  the 
slightest  consequence. 

Therefore  she  did  not  reply  to  the  rude  old  man, 
but  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  called  to  the  wait- 
ress to  bring  her  bill. 

"  Do  you  know  if  he  was  tall  or  short,  dark  or 
fair?  "  continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  seemingly 
not  the  least  disconcerted  by  the  young  girl's  in- 
difference. "  Can  you  tell  me  at  all  what  he  was 
like?" 


88  THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

"  Of  course  I  can,"  rejoined  Polly  impatiently, 
"but  I  don't  see  that  my  description  of  one  of 
the  customers  of  an  A.  B.  C.  shop  can  have  the 
slightest  importance." 

He  was  silent  for  a  minute,  while  his  nervous 
fingers  fumbled  about  in  his  capacious  pockets  in 
search  of  the  inevitable  piece  of  string.  When 
he  had  found  this  necessary  "  adjunct  to  thought," 
he  viewed  the  young  girl  again  through  his  half- 
closed  lids,  and  added  maliciously: 

"  But  supposing  it  were  of  paramount  impor- 
tance that  you  should  give  an  accurate  description 
of  a  man  who  sat  next  to  you  for  half  an  hour  to- 
day, how  would  you  proceed?  " 

"  I  should  say  that  he  was  of  medium 
height " 

"  Five  foot  eight,  nine,  or  ten?"  he  interrupted 
quietly. 

"How  can  one  tell  to  an  inch  or  two?"  re- 
joined Polly  crossly.  "  He  was  between  colours." 

"What's  that?"  he  inquired  blandly. 

"  Neither  fair  nor  dark — his  nose " 

"Well,  what  was  his  nose  like?  Will  you 
sketch  it?" 

"  I  am  not  an  artist.  His  nose  was  fairly 
straight — his  eyes — • — " 

"  Were  neither  dark  nor  light — his  hair  had 
the  same  striking  peculiarity — he  was  neither 
short  nor  tall — his  nose  was  neither  aquiline  nor 
snub "  he  recapitulated  sarcastically. 


DEATH   ON   THE   UNDERGROUND      89 

"No,"  she  retorted;  "he  was  just  ordinary- 
looking." 

"  Would  you  know  him  again — say  to-morrow, 
and  among  a  number  of  other  men  who  were 
'  neither  tall  nor  short,  dark  nor  fair,  aquiline  nor 
snub-nosed,'  etc.?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I  might — he  was  certainly 
not  striking  enough  to  be  specially  remem- 
bered." 

"  Exactly,"  he  said,  while  he  leant  forward  ex- 
citedly, for  all  the  world  like  a  Jack-in-the-box  let 
loose.  "  Precisely;  and  you  are  a  journalist — call 
yourself  one,  at  least — and  it  should  be  part  of 
your  business  to  notice  and  describe  people.  I 
don't  mean  only  the  wonderful  personage  with  the 
clear  Saxon  features,  the  fine  blue  eyes,  the  noble 
brow  and  classic  face,  but  the  ordinary  person — 
the  person  who  represents  ninety  out  of  every 
hundred  of  his  own  kind — the  average  English- 
man, say,  of  the  middle  classes,  who  is  neither  very 
tall  nor  very  short,  who  wears  a  moustache  which 
is  neither  fair  nor  dark,  but  which  masks  his 
mouth,  and  a  top  hat  which  hides  the  shape  of  his 
head  and  brow,  a  man,  in  fact,  who  dresses  like 
hundreds  of  his  fellow-creatures,  moves  like  them, 
speaks  like  them,  has  no  peculiarity. 

"  Try  to  describe  him,  to  recognise  him,  say  a 
week  hence,  among  his  other  eighty-nine  doubles; 
worse  still,  to  swear  his  life  away,  if  he  happened 
to  be  implicated  in  some  crime,  wherein  your, 


90          THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

recognition  of  him  would  place  the  halter  round 
his  neck. 

"  Try  that,  I  say,  and  having  utterly  failed  you 
will  more  readily  understand  how  one  of  the  great- 
est scoundrels  unhung  is  still  at  large,  and  why 
the  mystery  on  the  Underground  Railway  was 
never  cleared  up. 

"  I  think  it  was  the  only  time  in  my  life  that 
I  was  seriously  tempted  to  give  the  police  the 
benefit  of  my  own  views  upon  the  matter.  You 
see,  though  I  admire  the  brute  for  his  cleverness, 
I  did  not  see  that  his  being  unpunished  could  pos- 
sibly benefit  anyone. 

"In  these  days  of  tubes  and  motor  traction  of 
all  kinds  the  old-fashioned  'best,  cheapest,  and 
quickest  route  to  City  and  West  End '  is  often 
deserted,  and  the  good  old  Metropolitan  Railway 
carriages  cannot  at  any  time  be  said  to  be  over- 
crowded. Anyway,  when  that  particular  train 
steamed  into  Aldgate  at  about  4  p.  m.  on  March 
1 8th  last,  the  first-class  carriages  were  all  but 
empty. 

;<  The  guard  marched  up  and  down  the  plat- 
form looking  into  all  the  carriages  to  see  if  any- 
one had  left  a  halfpenny  evening  paper  behind 
for  him,  and  opening  the  door  of  one  of  the  first- 
class  compartments,  he  noticed  a  lady  sitting  in  the 
further  corner,  with  her  head  turned  away  towards 
the  window,  evidently  oblivious  of  the  fact  that 
on  this  line  Aldgate  is  the  terminal  station. 


DEATH   ON   THE   UNDERGROUND      91 

"  *  Where  are  you  for,  lady?  '  he  said. 

"  The  lady  did  not  move,  and  the  guard  stepped 
into  the  carriage,  thinking  that  perhaps  the  lady 
was  asleep.  He  touched  her  arm  lightly  and 
looked  into  her  face.  In  his  own  poetic  language, 
he  was  'struck  all  of  a  'cap.'  In  the  glassy 
eyes,  the  ashen  colour  of  the  cheeks,  the  rigidity 
of  the  head,  there  was  the  unmistakable  look  of 
death. 

"  Hastily  the  guard,  having  carefully  locked  the 
carriage  door,  summoned  a  couple  of  porters,  and 
sent  one  of  them  off  to  the  police-station,  and  the 
other  in  search  of  the  station-master. 

"  Fortunately  at  this  time  of  day  the  up  plat- 
form is  not  very  crowded,  all  the  traffic  tending 
westward  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  only  when  an 
inspector  and  two  police  constables,  accompanied 
by  a  detective  in  plain  clothes  and  a  medical  offi- 
cer, appeared  upon  the  scene,  and  stood  round  a 
first-class  railway  compartment,  that  a  few  idlers 
realised  that  something  unusual  had  occurred,  and 
crowded  round,  eager  and  curious. 

"  Thus  it  was  that  the  later  editions  of  the 
evening  papers,  under  the  sensational  heading, 
4  Mysterious  Suicide  on  the  Underground  Rail- 
way,' had  already  an  account  of  the  extraordi- 
nary event.  The  medical  officer  had  very  soon 
come  to  the  decision  that  the  guard  had  not  been 
mistaken,  and  that  life  was  indeed  extinct. 

'  The  lady  was  young,  and  must  have  been 


92          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

very  pretty  before  the  look  of  fright  and  horror 
had  so  terribly  distorted  her  features.  She  was 
very  elegantly  dressed,  and  the  more  frivolous 
papers  were  able  to  give  their  feminine  readers 
a  detailed  account  of  the  unfortunate  woman's 
gown,  her  shoes,  hat,  and  gloves. 

"  It  appears  that  one  of  the  latter,  the  one  on 
the  right  hand,  was  partly  off,  leaving  the  thumb 
and  wrist  bare.  That  hand  held  a  small  satchel, 
which  the  police  opened,  with  a  view  to  the  pos- 
sible identification  of  the  deceased,  but  which  was 
found  to  contain  only  a  little  loose  silver,  some 
smelling  salts,  and  a  small  empty  bottle,  which 
was  handed  over  to  the  medical  officer  for  pur- 
poses of  analysis. 

"  It  was  the  presence  of  that  small  bottle  which 
had  caused  the  report  to  circulate  freely  that  the 
mysterious  case  on  the  Underground  Railway  was 
one  of  suicide.  Certain  it  was  that  neither  about 
the  lady's  person,  nor  in  the  appearance  of  the 
railway  carriage,  was  there  the  slightest  sign  of 
struggle  or  even  of  resistance.  Only  the  look  in  the 
poor  woman's  eyes  spoke  of  sudden  terror,  of  the 
rapid  vision  of  an  unexpected  and  violent  death, 
which  probably  only  lasted  an  infinitesimal  frac- 
tion of  a  second,  but  which  had  left  its  indelible 
mark  upon  the  face,  otherwise  so  placid  and  so 
still. 

'  The  body  of  the  deceased  was  conveyed  to  the 
mortuary.  So  far,  of  course,  not  a  soul  had  been 


"  HE   WAS    '  STRUCK   ALL   OF   A   ?EAP 


?  '  " 


DEATH    ON    THE    UNDERGROUND      93 

able  to  identify  her,  or  to  throw  the  slightest  light 
upon  the  mystery  which  hung  around  her  death. 

"Against  that,  quite  a  crowd  of  idlers — • 
genuinely  interested  or  not — obtained  admission 
to  view  the  body,  on  the  pretext  of  having  lost 
or  mislaid  a  relative  or  a  friend.  At  about  8.30 
p.  m.  a  young  man,  very  well  dressed,  drove  up  to 
the  station  in  a  hansom,  and  sent  in  his  card  to  the 
superintendent.  It  was  Mr.  Hazeldene,  shipping 
agent,  of  n  Crown  Lane,  E.  C,  and  No.  19 
Addison  Row,  Kensington. 

"  The  young  man  looked  in  a  pitiable  state  of 
mental  distress;  his  hand  clutched  nervously  a 
copy  of  the  St.  James  Gazette,  which  contained  the 
fatal  news.  He  said  very  little  to  the  superin- 
tendent except  that  a  person  who  was  very  dear  to 
him  had  not  returned  home  that  evening. 

"He  had  not  felt  really  anxious  until  half  an 
hour  ago,  when  suddenly  he  thought  of  looking 
at  his  paper.  The  description  of  the  deceased 
lady,  though  vague,  had  terribly  alarmed  him. 
He  had  jumped  into  a  hansom,  and  now  begged 
permission  to  view  the  body,  in  order  that  his 
worst  fears  might  be  allayed. 

''You  know  what  followed,  of  course,"  con- 
tinued the  man  in  the  corner,  "  the  grief  of  the 
young  man  was  truly  pitiable.  In  the  woman 
lying  there  in  a  public  mortuary  before  him,  Mr. 
Hazeldene  had  recognised  his  wife. 

"I  am  waxing  melodramatic,"  said  the  man 


94          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

in  the  corner,  who  looked  up  at  Polly  with  a 
mild  and  gentle  smile,  while  his  nervous  fingers 
vainly  endeavoured  to  add  another  knot  on  the 
scrappy  bit  of  string  with  which  he  was  contin- 
ually playing,  "  and  I  fear  that  the  whole  story 
savours  of  the  penny  novelette,  but  you  must  ad- 
mit, and  no  doubt  you  remember,  that  it  was  an 
intensely  pathetic  and  truly  dramatic  moment. 

"  The  unfortunate  young  husband  of  the  de- 
ceased lady  was  not  much  worried  with  questions 
that  night.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  not  in 
a  fit  condition  to  make  any  coherent  statement. 
It  was  at  the  coroner's  inquest  on  the  following 
day  that  certain  facts  came  to  light,  which,  for 
the  time  being,  seemed  to  clear  up  the  mystery  sur- 
rounding Mrs.  Hazeldene's  death,  only  to  plunge 
that  same  mystery,  later  on,  into  denser  gloom 
than  before. 

;<  The  first  witness  at  the  inquest  was,  of  course, 
Mr.  Hazeldene  himself.  I  think  everyone's  sym- 
pathy went  out  to  the  young  man  as  he  stood 
before  the  coroner  and  tried  to  throw  what  light 
he  could  upon  the  mystery.  He  was  well  dressed, 
as  he  had  been  the  day  before,  but  he  looked 
terribly  ill  and  worried,  and  no  doubt  the  fact 
that  he  had  not  shaved  gave  his  face  a  careworn 
and  neglected  air. 

"  It  appears  that  he  and  the  deceased  had  been 
married  some  six  years  or  so,  and  that  they  had 
always  been  happy  in  their  married  life.  They 


DEATH    ON    THE    UNDERGROUND      95 

had  no  children.  Mrs.  Hazeldene  seemed  to  en- 
joy the  best  of  health  till  lately,  when  she  had 
had  a  slight  attack  of  influenza,  in  which  Dr. 
Arthur  Jones  had  attended  her.  The  doctor  was 
present  at  this  moment,  and  would  no  doubt  ex- 
plain to  the  coroner  and  the  jury  whether  he 
thought  that  Mrs.  Hazeldene  had  the  slightest 
tendency  to  heart  disease,  which  might  have  had  a 
sudden  and  fatal  ending. 

"The  coroner  was,  of  course,  very  considerate 
to  the  bereaved  husband.  He  tried  by  circum- 
locution to  get  at  the  point  he  wanted,  namely, 
Mrs.  Hazeldene's  mental  condition  lately.  Mr. 
Hazeldene  seemed  loath  to  talk  about  this.  No 
doubt  he  had  been  warned  as  to  the  existence  of 
the  small  bottle  found  in  his  wife's  satchel. 

*  It  certainly  did  seem  to  me  at  times,'  he  at 
last  reluctantly  admitted,  'that  my  wife  did  not 
seem  quite  herself.  She  used  to  be  very  gay  and 
bright,  and  lately  I  often  saw  her  in  the  evening, 
sitting  as  if  brooding  over  some  matters  which 
evidently  she  did  not  care  to  communicate  to  me.' 

"Still  the  coroner  insisted,  and  suggested  the 
small  bottle. 

'  I  know,  I  know,'  replied  the  young  man, 
with  a  short,  heavy  sigh.  *  You  mean — the 
question  of  suicide — I  cannot  understand  it  at  all 
— it  seems  so  sudden  and  so  terrible — she  certainly 
had  seemed  listless  and  troubled  lately — but  only 
at  times — and  yesterday  morning,  when  I  went  to 


96          THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

business,  she  appeared  quite  herself  again,  and  I 
suggested  that  we  should  go  to  the  opera  in  the 
evening.  She  was  delighted,  I  know,  and  told 
me  she  would  do  some  shopping,  and  pay  a  few 
calls  in  the  afternoon.' 

" '  Do  you  know  at  all  where  she  intended 
to  go  when  she  got  into  the  Underground  Rail- 
way?' 

" '  Well,  not  with  certainty.  You  see,  she  may 
have  meant  to  get  out  at  Baker  Street,  and  go 
down  to  Bond  Street  to  do  her  shopping.  Then, 
again,  she  sometimes  goes  to  a  shop  in  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard,  in  which  case  she  would  take  a  ticket 
to  Aldersgate  Street;  but  I  cannot  say.' 

4  Now,  Mr.  Hazeldene,'  said  the  coroner  at 
last  very  kindly,  '  will  you  try  to  tell  me  if  there 
was  anything  in  Mrs.  Hazeldene's  life  which  you 
know  of,  and  which  might  in  some  measure  ex- 
plain the  cause  of  the  distressed  state  of  mind, 
which  you  yourself  had  noticed?  Did  there  exist 
any  financial  difficulty  which  might  have  preyed 
upon  Mrs.  Hazeldene's  mind;  was  there  any 
friend — to  whose  intercourse  with  Mrs.  Hazel- 
dene — you — er — at  any  time  took  exception?  In 
fact,'  added  the  coroner,  as  if  thankful  that  he 
had  got  over  an  unpleasant  moment,  'can  you 
give  me  the  slightest  indication  which  would  tend 
to  confirm  the  suspicion  that  the  unfortunate  lady, 
in  a  moment  of  mental  anxiety  or  derangement, 
may  have  wished  to  take  her  own  life?  ' 


DEATH   ON   THE   UNDERGROUND     97 

"There  was  silence  in  the  court  for  a  few 
moments.  Mr.  Hazeldene  seemed  to  everyone 
there  present  to  be  labouring  under  some  terrible 
moral  doubt.  He  looked  very  pale  and  wretched, 
and  twice  attempted  to  speak  before  he  at  last 
said  in  scarcely  audible  tones: 

"  *  No ;  there  were  no  financial  difficulties  of 
any  sort.  My  wife  had  an  independent  fortune 
of  her  own — she  had  no  extravagant  tastes ' 

"  *  Nor  any  friend  you  at  any  time  objected  to? ' 
insisted  the  coroner. 

'  Nor  any  friend,  I — at  any  time  objected  to,' 
stammered  the  unfortunate  young  man,  evidently 
speaking  with  an  effort. 

"  I  was  present  at  the  inquest,"  resumed  the 
man  in  the  corner,  after  he  had  drunk  a  glass  of 
milk  and  ordered  another,  "  and  I  can  assure  ,you 
that  the  most  obtuse  person  there  plainly  realised 
that  Mr.  Hazeldene  was  telling  a  lie.  It  was 
pretty  plain  to  the  meanest  intelligence  that  the 
unfortunate  lady  had  not  fallen  into  a  state  of 
morbid  dejection  for  nothing,  and  that  perhaps 
there  existed  a  third  person  who  could  throw  more 
light  on  her  strange  and  sudden  death  than  the 
unhappy,  bereaved  young  widower. 

''  That  the  death  was  more  mysterious  even 
than  it  had  at  first  appeared  became  very  soon 
apparent.  You  read  the  case  at  the  time,  no 
doubt,  and  must  remember  the  excitement  in  the 
public  mind  caused  by  the  evidence  of  the  two 


98          THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

doctors.  Dr.  Arthur  Jones,  the  lady's  usual  medi- 
cal man,  who  had  attended  her  in  a  last  very  slight 
illness,  and  who  had  seen  her  in  a  professional 
capacity  fairly  recently,  declared  most  emphatically 
that  Mrs.  Hazeldene  suffered  from  no  organic 
complaint  which  could  possibly  have  been  the 
cause  of  sudden  death.  Moreover,  he  had  as- 
sisted Mr.  Andrew  Thornton,  the  district  medical 
officer,  in  making  a  post-mortem  examination,  and 
together  they  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
death  was  due  to  the  action  of  prussic  acid,  which 
had  caused  instantaneous  failure  of  the  heart,  but 
how  the  drug  had  been  administered  neither  he 
nor  his  colleague  were  at  present  able  to  state. 

" '  Do  I  understand,  then,  Dr.  Jones,  that  the 
deceased  died,  poisoned  with  prussic  acid?' 
1 '  Such  is  my  opinion,'  replied  the  doctor. 

"  *  Did  the  bottle  found  in  her  satchel  contain 
prussic  acid? ' 

'  It  had   contained   some   at  one  time,   cer- 
tainly.' 

*  In  your  opinion,  then,  the  lady  caused  her 
own  death  by  taking  a  dose  of  that  drug  ?  ' 

"  *  Pardon  me,  I  never  suggested  such  a  thing ; 
the  lady  died  poisoned  by  the  drug,  but  how  the 
drug  was  administered  we  cannot  say.  By  injec- 
tion of  some  sort,  certainly.  The  drug  certainly 
was  not  swallowed;  there  was  not  a  vestige  of  it 
in  the  stomach.' 

"'Yes,'  added  the  doctor,  in  reply  to  another 


DEATH    ON    THE    UNDERGROUND      99 

question  from  the  coroner,  'death  had  probably 
followed  the  injection  in  this  case  almost  im- 
mediately; say  within  a  couple  of  minutes,  or  per- 
haps three.  It  was  quite  possible  that  the  body 
would  not  have  more  than  one  quick  and  sudden 
convulsion,  perhaps  not  that;  death  in  such  cases 
is  absolutely  sudden  and  crushing.' 

"  I  don't  think  that  at  the  time  anyone  in  the 
room  realised  how  important  the  doctor's  state- 
ment was,  a  statement  which,  by  the  way,  was  con- 
firmed in  all  its  details  by  the  district  medical  of- 
ficer, who  had  conducted  the  post-mortem.  Mrs. 
Hazeldene  had  died  suddenly  from  an  injection 
of  prussic  acid,  administered  no  one  knew  how  or 
when.  She  had  been  travelling  in  a  first-class 
railway  carriage  in  a  busy  time  of  the  day.  That 
young  and  elegant  woman  must  have  had  singular 
nerve  and  coolness  to  go  through  the  process  of 
a  self-inflicted  injection  of  a  deadly  poison  in 
the  presence  of  perhaps  two  or  three  other  per- 
sons. 

"  Mind  you,  when  I  say  that  no  one  there 
realised  the  importance  of  the  doctor's  statement 
at  that  moment,  I  am  wrong;  there  were  three 
persons  who  fully  understood  at  once  the  gravity 
of  the  situation,  and  the  astounding  development 
which  the  case  was  beginning  to  assume. 

"  Of  course,  I  should  have  put  myself  out  of 
the  question,"  added  the  weird  old  man,  with  that 
inimitable  self-conceit  peculiar  to  himself.  "  I 


ioo        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

guessed  then  and  there  in  a  moment  where  the 
police  were  going  wrong,  and  where  they  would 
go  on  going  wrong  until  the  mysterious  death  on 
the  Underground  Railway  had  sunk  into  oblivion, 
together  with  the  other  cases  which  they  misman- 
age from  time  to  time. 

"  I  said  there  were  three  persons  who  under- 
stood the  gravity  of  the  two  doctors'  statements 
< — the  other  two  were,  firstly,  the  detective  who 
had  originally  examined  the  railway  carriage,  a 
young  man  of  energy  and  plenty  of  misguided  in- 
telligence, the  other  was  Mr.  Hazeldene. 

"  At  this  point  the  interesting  element  of  the 
whole  story  was  first  introduced  into  the  proceed- 
ings, and  this  was  done  through  the  humble  chan- 
nel of  Emma  Funnel,  Mrs.  Hazeldene's  maid, 
who,  as  far  as  was  known  then,  was  the  last  per- 
son who  had  seen  the  unfortunate  lady  alive  and 
had  spoken  to  her. 

*  Mrs.  Hazeldene  lunched  at  home,'  explained 
Emma,  who  was  shy,  and  spoke  almost  in  a 
whisper;  'she  seemed  well  and  cheerful.  She 
went  out  at  about  half-past  three,  and  told  me  she 
was  going  to  Spence's,  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard, 
to  try  on  on  her  new  tailor-made  gown.  Mrs. 
Hazeldene  had  meant  to  go  there  in  the  morning, 
but  was  prevented  as  Mr.  Errington  called.' 

'  Mr.  Errington  ? '  asked  the  coroner  casually. 
'  Who  is  Mr.  Errington  ?  ' 


DEATH   ON   THE   UNDERGROUND    101 

"  But  this  Emma  found  difficult  to  explain. 
*  Mr.  Errington  was — Mr.  Errington,  that's  all.' 

" '  Mr.  Errington  was  a  friend  of  the  family. 
He  lived  in  a  flat  in  the  Albert  Mansions.  He 
very  often  came  to  Addison  Row,  and  generally 
stayed  late.' 

"  Pressed  still  further  with  questions,  Emma  at 
last  stated  that  latterly  Mrs.  Hazeldene  had  been 
to  the  theatre  several  times  with  Mr.  Errington, 
and  that  on  those  nights  the  master  looked  very 
gloomy,  and  was  very  cross. 

"  Recalled,  the  young  widower  was  strangely 
reticent.  He  gave  forth  his  answers  very  grudg- 
ingly, and  the  coroner  was  evidently  absolutely 
satisfied  with  himself  at  the  marvellous  way  in 
which,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  firm  yet  very 
kind  questionings,  he  had  elicited  from  the  witness 
what  information  he  wanted. 

"  Mr.  Errington  was  a  friend  of  his  wife.  He 
was  a  gentleman  of  means,  and  seemed  to  have 
a  great  deal  of  time  at  his  command.  He  him- 
self did  not  particularly  care  about  Mr.  Errington, 
but  he  certainly  had  never  made  any  observations 
to  his  wife  on  the  subject. 

'But  who  is  Mr.  Errington?'  repeated  the 
coroner  once  more.  'What  does  he  do?  What 
is  his  business  or  profession? ' 

*  He  has  no  business  or  profession,' 

"'What  is  his  occupation,  then?' 


102         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

1  He  has  no  special  occupation.  He  has  ample 
private  means.  But  he  has  a  great  and  very  ab- 
sorbing hobby.' 

"'What  is  that?* 

"  '  He  spends  all  his  time  in  chemical  experi- 
ments, and  is,  I  believe,  as  an  amateur,  a  very  dis- 
tinguished toxicologist.' ' 


CHAPTER  XI 

MR.  ERRINGTON 

"  DID  you  ever  see  Mr.  Errington,  the  gentleman 
so  closely  connected  with  the  mysterious  death  on 
the  Underground  Railway?"  asked  the  man  in 
the  corner  as  he  placed  one  or  two  of  his  little 
snap-shot  photos  before  Miss  Polly  Burton. 
"  There  he  is,  to  the  very  life.  Fairly  good-look- 
ing, a  pleasant  face  enough,  but  ordinary,  abso- 
lutely ordinary. 

"  It  was  this  absence  of  any  peculiarity  which 
very  nearly,  but  not  quite,  placed  the  halter  round 
Mr.  Errington's  neck.  But  I  am  going  too  fast, 
and  you  will  lose  the  thread. 

*  The  public,  of  course,  never  heard  how  it 
actually  came  about  that  Mr.  Errington,  the 
wealthy  bachelor  of  Albert  Mansions,  of  the  Gros- 
venor,  and  other  young  dandies'  clubs,  one  fine 
day  found  himself  before  the  magistrates  at  Bow 
Street,  charged  with  being  concerned  in  the  death 
of  Mary  Beatrice  Hazeldene,  late  of  No.  19 
Addison  Row. 

"  I  can  assure  you  both  press  and  public  were 
literally  flabbergasted.  You  see,  Mr.  Errington 
was  a  well-known  and  very  popular  member  of  a 

103 


104 

certain  smart  section  of  London  society.  He  was 
a  constant  visitor  at  the  opera,  the  racecourse,  the 
Park,  and  the  Carlton,  he  had  a  great  many 
friends,  and  there  was  consequently  quite  a  large 
attendance  at  the  police  court  that  morning. 

"What  had  transpired  was  this: 

"  After  the  very  scrappy  bits  of  evidence  which 
came  to  light  at  the  inquest,  two  gentlemen  be- 
thought themselves  that  perhaps  they  had  some 
duty  to  perform  toward  the  State  and  the  public 
generally.  Accordingly  they  had  come  forward, 
offering  to  throw  what  light  they  could  upon 
the  mysterious  affair  on  the  Underground  Rail- 
way. 

"The  police  naturally  felt  that  their  informa- 
tion, such  as  it  was,  came  rather  late  in  the  day, 
but  as  it  proved  of  paramount  importance,  and 
the  two  gentlemen,  moreover,  were  of  undoubtedly 
good  position  in  the  world,  they  were  thankful  for 
what  they  could  get,  and  acted  accordingly;  they 
accordingly  brought  Mr.  Errington  up  before  the 
magistrate  on  a  charge  of  murder. 

"The  accused  looked  pale  and  worried  when  I 
first  caught  sight  of  him  in  the  court  that  day, 
which  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  considering  the 
terrible  position  in  which  he  found  himself. 

"  He  had  been  arrested  at  Marseilles,  where  he 
was  preparing  to  start  for  Colombo. 

"  I   don't  think  he  realised  how  terrible  his 


MR.    ERRINGTON  105 

position  really  was  until  later  in  the  proceedings, 
when  all  the  evidence  relating  to  the  arrest  had 
been  heard,  and  Emma  Funnel  had  repeated  her 
statement  as  to  Mr.  Errington's  call  at  19,  Addi- 
son  Row,  in  the  morning,  and  Mrs.  Hazeldene 
starting  off  for  St.  Paul's  Churchyard  at  3.30  in 
the  afternoon. 

"  Mr.  Hazeldene  had  nothing  to  add  to  the 
statements  he  had  made  at  the  coroner's  inquest. 
He  had  last  seen  his  wife  alive  on  the  morning 
of  the  fatal  day.  She  had  seemed  very  well  and 
cheerful.  I  think  everyone  present  understood 
that  he  was  trying  to  say  as  little  as  possible  that 
could  in  any  way  couple  his  deceased  wife's  name 
with  that  of  the  accused. 

"And  yet,  from  the  servant's  evidence,  it  un- 
doubtedly leaked  out  that  Mrs.  Hazeldene,  who 
was  young,  pretty,  and  evidently  fond  of  admira- 
tion, had  once  or  twice  annoyed  her  husband  by 
her  somewhat  open,  yet  perfectly  innocent,  flirta- 
tion with  Mr.  Errington. 

"  I  think  everyone  was  most  agreeably  im- 
pressed by  the  widower's  moderate  and  dignified 
attitude.  You  will  see  his  photo  there,  among 
this  bundle.  That  is  just  how  he  appeared  in 
court.  In  deep  black,  of  course,  but  without  any 
sign  of  ostentation  in  his  mourning.  He  had 
allowed  his  beard  to  grow  lately,  and  wore  it 
closely  cut  in  a  point. 


106         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  After  his  evidence,  the  sensation  of  the  day 
occurred.  A  tall,  dark-haired  man,  with  the  word 
4  city '  written  metaphorically  all  over  him,  had 
kissed  the  book,  and  was  waiting  to  tell  the  truth, 
and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

"  He  gave  his  name  as  Andrew  Campbell,  head 
of  the  firm  of  Campbell  &  Co.,  brokers,  of  Throg- 
morton  Street. 

"In  the  afternoon  of  March  i8th  Mr.  Camp- 
bell, travelling  on  the  Underground  Railway,  had 
noticed  a  very  pretty  woman  in  the  same  carnage 
as  himself.  She  had  asked  him  if  she  was  in  the 
right  train  for  Aldersgate.  Mr.  Campbell  replied 
in  the  affirmative,  and  then  buried  himself  in  the 
Stock  Exchange  quotations  of  his  evening  paper. 
At  Gower  Street,  a  gentleman  in  a  tweed  suit  and 
bowler  hat  got  into  the  carriage,  and  took  a  seat 
opposite  the  lady. 

"She  seemed  very  much  astonished  at  seeing 
him,  but  Mr.  Andrew  Campbell  did  not  recollect 
the  exact  words  she  said. 

"The  two  talked  to  one  another  a  good  deal, 
and  certainly  the  lady  appeared  animated  and 
cheerful.  Witness  took  no  notice  of  them;  he 
was  very  much  engrossed  in  some  calculations,  and 
finally  got  out  at  Farringdon  Street.  He  noticed 
that  the  man  in  the  tweed  suit  also  got  out  close 
behind  him,  having  shaken  hands  with  the  lady, 
and  said  in  a  pleasant  way:  ' Au  revoirf  Don't 
be  late  to-night.'  Mr.  Campbell  did  not  hear  the 


MR.    ERRINGTON  107 

lady's  reply,  and  soon  lost  sight  of  the  man  in  the 
crowd. 

"Everyone  was  on  tenter-hooks,  and  eagerly 
waiting  for  the  palpitating  moment  when  witness 
would  describe  and  identify  the  man  who  last  had 
seen  and  spoken  to  the  unfortunate  woman,  within 
five  minutes  probably  of  her  strange  and  unac- 
countable death.  Personally  I  knew  what  was 
coming  before  the  Scotch  stockbroker  spoke.  I 
could  have  jotted  down  the  graphic  and  life-like 
description  he  would  give  of  a  probable  murderer. 
It  would  have  fitted  equally  well  the  man  who  sat 
and  had  luncheon  at  this  table  just  now;  it  would 
certainly  have  described  five  out  of  every  ten  young 
Englishmen  you  know. 

"  The  individual  was  of  medium  height,  he 
wore  a  moustache  which  was  not  very  fair  nor 
yet  very  dark,  his  hair  was  between  colours.  He 
wore  a  bowler  hat,  and  a  tweed  suit — and — and — • 
that  was  all — Mr.  Campbell  might  perhaps  know 
him  again,  but  then  again,  he  might  not — he  was 
not  paying  much  attention — the  gentleman  was  sit- 
ting on  the  same  side  of  the  carriage  as  himself — 
and  he  had  his  hat  on  all  the  time.  He  himself 
was  busy  with  his  newspaper — yes — he  might 
know  him  again — but  he  really  could  not  say. 

"  Mr.  Andrew  Campbell's  evidence  was  not 
worth  very  much,  you  will  say.  No,  it  was  not 
in  itself,  and  would  not  have  justified  any  arrest 
were  it  not  for  the  additional  statements  made 


io8         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

by  Mr.  James  Verner,  manager  of  Messrs.  Rod- 
ney &  Co.,  colour  printers. 

"  Mr.  Verner  is  a  personal  friend  of  Mr. 
Andrew  Campbell,  and  it  appears  that  at  Farring- 
don  Street,  where  he  was  waiting  for  his  train,  he 
saw  Mr.  Campbell  get  out  of  a  first-class  railway 
carriage.  Mr.  Verner  spoke  to  him  for  a  second, 
and  then,  just  as  the  train  was  moving  off,  he 
stepped  into  the  same  compartment  which  had  just 
been  vacated  by  the  stock-broker  and  the  man  in 
the  tweed  suit.  He  vaguely  recollects  a  lady  sit- 
ting in  the  opposite  corner  to  his  own,  with  her 
face  turned  away  from  him,  apparently  asleep,  but 
he  paid  no  special  attention  to  her.  He  was  like 
nearly  all  business  men  when  they  are  travelling-- 
engrossed in  his  paper.  Presently  a  special  quota- 
tion interested  him;  he  wished  to  make  a  note  of 
it,  took  out  a  pencil  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and 
seeing  a  clean  piece  of  paste-board  on  the  floor, 
he  picked  it  up,  and  scribbled  on  it  the  memo- 
randum which  he  wished  to  keep.  He  then 
slipped  the  card  into  his  pocket-book. 

*  It  was  only  two  or  three  days  later,'  added 
Mr.  Verner,  in  the  midst  of  breathless  silence, 
*  that  I  had  occasion  to  refer  to  these  same  notes 
again.  In  the  meanwhile  the  papers  had  been 
full  of  the  mysterious  death  on  the  Underground 
Railway,  and  the  names  of  those  connected  with 
it  were  pretty  familiar  to  me.  It  was,  therefore, 
with  much  astonishment  that  on  looking  at  the 


MR.    ERRINGTON  109 

paste-board  which  I  had  casually  picked  up  in  the 
railway  carriage  I  saw  the  name  on  it,  "  Frank 
Errington." 

"  There  was  no  doubt  that  the  sensation  in 
court  was  almost  unprecedented.  Never  since  the 
days  of  the  Fenchurch  Street  mystery,  and  the 
trial  of  Smethurst,  had  I  seen  so  much  excitement. 
Mind  you,  I  was  not  excited — I  knew  by  now 
every  detail  of  that  crime  as  if  I  had  committed 
it  myself.  In  fact,  I  could  not  have  done  it  better, 
although  I  have  been  a  student  of  crime  for  many 
years  now.  Many  people  there — his  friends, 
mostly — believed  that  Errington  was  doomed.  I 
think  he  thought  so,  too,  for  I  could  see  that  his 
face  was  terribly  white,  and  he  now  and  then 
passed  his  tongue  over  his  lips,  as  if  they  were 
parched. 

'*  You  see  he  was  in  the  awful  dilemma — a 
perfectly  natural  one,  by  the  way — of  being  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  proving  an  alibi.  The  crime 
— if  crime  there  was — had  been  committed  three 
weeks  ago.  A  man  about  town  like  Mr.  Frank 
Errington  might  remember  that  he  spent  certain 
hours  of  a  special  afternoon  at  his  club,  or  in  the 
Park,  but  it  is  very  doubtful  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  if  he  can  find  a  friend  who  could  positively 
swear  as  to  having  seen  him  there.  No!  no \ 
Mr.  Errington  was  in  a  tight  corner,  and  he  knew 
it.  You  see,  there  were — besides  the  evidence — •. 
two  or  three  circumstances  which  did  not  improve 


no         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

matters  for  him.  His  hobby  in  the  direction  of 
toxicology,  to  begin  with.  The  police  had  found 
in  his  room  every  description  of  poisonous  sub- 
stances, including  prussic  acid. 

"  Then,  again,  that  journey  to  Marseilles,  the 
start  for  Colombo,  was,  though  perfectly  inno- 
cent, a  very  unfortunate  one.  Mr.  Errington  had 
gone  on  an  aimless  voyage,  but  the  public  thought 
that  he  had  fled,  terrified  at  his  own  crime.  Sir 
Arthur  Inglewood,  however,  here  again  displayed 
his  marvellous  skill  on  behalf  of  his  client  by  the 
masterly  way  in  which  he  literally  turned  all  the 
witnesses  for  the  Crown  inside  out. 

"Having  first  got  Mr.  Andrew  Campbell  to 
state  positively  that  in  the  accused  he  certainly 
did  not  recognise  the  man  in  the  tweed  suit,  the 
eminent  lawyer,  after  twenty  minutes'  cross-exam- 
ination, had  so  completely  upset  the  stock-broker's 
equanimity  that  it  is  very  likely  he  would  not  have 
recognised  his  own  office  boy. 

"  But  through  all  his  flurry  and  all  his  annoy- 
ance Mr.  Andrew  Campbell  remained  very  sure  of 
one  thing;  namely,  that  the  lady  was  alive  and 
cheerful,  and  talking  pleasantly  with  the  man  in 
the  tweed  suit  up  to  the  moment  when  the  latter, 
having  shaken  hands  with  her,  left  her  with  a 
pleasant  '  Au  revoir!  Don't  be  late  to-night.' 
He  had  heard  neither  scream  nor  struggle,  and  in 
his  opinion,  if  the  individual  in  the  tweed  suit 
had  administered  a  dose  of  poison  to  his  compan- 


MR.    ERRINGTON  in 

ion,  it  must  have  been  with  her  own  knowledge 
and  free  will;  and  the  lady  in  the  train  most 
emphatically  neither  looked  nor  spoke  like  a 
woman  prepared  for  a  sudden  and  violent  death. 

"  Mr.  James  Verner,  against  that,  swore 
equally  positively  that  he  had  stood  in  full  view 
of  the  carriage  door  from  the  moment  that  Mr. 
Campbell  got  out  until  he  himself  stepped  into 
the  compartment,  that  there  was  no  one  else  in 
that  carriage  between  Farringdon  Street  and  Aid- 
gate,  and  that  the  lady,  to  the  best  of  his  belief, 
had  made  no  movement  during  the  whole  of  that 
journey. 

"  No;  Frank  Errington  was  not  committed  for 
trial  on  the  capital  charge,"  said  the  man  in  the 
corner  with  one  of  his  sardonic  smiles,  "  thanks 
to  the  cleverness  of  Sir  Arthur  Inglewood,  his 
lawyer.  He  absolutely  denied  his  identity  with 
the  man  in  the  tweed  suit,  and  swore  he  had  not 
seen  Mrs.  Hazeldene  since  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  that  fatal  day.  There  was  no  proof 
that  he  had;  moreover,  according  to  Mr.  Camp- 
bell's opinion,  the  man  in  the  tweed  suit  was  in 
all  probability  not  the  murderer.  Common  sense 
would  not  admit  that  a  woman  could  have  a 
deadly  poison  injected  into  her  without  her  knowl- 
edge, while  chatting  pleasantly  to  her  murderer. 

"  Mr.  Errington  lives  abroad  now.  He  is 
about  to  marry.  I  don't  think  any  of  his  real 
friends  for  a  moment  believed  that  he  committed 


the  dastardly  crime.  The  police  think  they  know 
better.  They  do  know  this  much,  that  it  could 
not  have  been  a  case  of  suicide,  that  if  the  man 
who  undoubtedly  travelled  with  Mrs.  Hazeldene 
on  that  fatal  afternoon  had  no  crime  upon  his 
conscience  he  would  long  ago  have  come  for- 
ward and  thrown  what  light  he  could  upon  the 
mystery. 

"As  to  who  that  man  was,  the  police  in  their 
blindness  have  not  the  faintest  doubt.  Under  the 
unshakable  belief  that  Errington  is  guilty  they 
have  spent  the  last  few  months  in  unceasing  labour 
to  try  and  find  further  and  stronger  proofs  of  his 
guilt.  But  they  won't  find  them,  because  there 
are  none.  There  are  no  positive  proofs  against 
the  actual  murderer,  for  he  was  one  of  those  clever 
blackguards  who  think  of  everything,  foresee 
every  eventuality,  who  know  human  nature  well, 
and  can  foretell  exactly  what  evidence  will  be 
brought  against  them,  and  act  accordingly. 

'  This  blackguard  from  the  first  kept  the  figure, 
the  personality,  of  Frank  Errington  before  his 
mind.  Frank  Errington  was  the  dust  which  the 
scoundrel  threw  metaphorically  in  the  eyes  of  the 
police,  and  you  must  admit  that  he  succeeded  in 
blinding  them — to  the  extent  even  of  making  them 
entirely  forget  the  one  simple  little  sentence,  over- 
heard by  Mr.  Andrew  Campbell,  and  which  was, 
of  course,  the  clue  to  the  whole  thing — the  only 
slip  the  cunning  rogue  made — ' Au  revoirf  Don't 


MR.    ERRINGTON  113 

be  late  to-night.'  Mrs.  Hazeldene  was  going  that 
night  to  the  opera  with  her  husband 

"  You  are  astonished?"  he  added,  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders,  "  you  do  not  see  the  tragedy  yet, 
as  I  have  seen  it  before  me  all  along.  The  frivo- 
lous young  wife,  the  flirtation  with  the  friend? — 
all  a  blind,  all  pretence.  I  took  the  trouble  which 
the  police  should  have  taken  immediately,  of  find- 
ing out  something  about  the  finances  of  the  Hazel- 
dene  menage.  Money  is  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
the  keynote  to  a  crime. 

"  I  found  that  the  will  of  Mary  Beatrice  Hazel- 
dene  had  been  proved  by  the  husband,  her  sole 
executor,  the  estate  being  sworn  at  £15,000.  I 
found  out,  moreover,  that  Mr.  Edward  Sholto 
Hazeldene  was  a  poor  shipper's  clerk  when  he 
married  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  builder  in 
Kensington — and  then  I  made  note  of  the  fact  that 
the  disconsolate  widower  had  allowed  his  beard  to 
grow  since  the  death  of  his  wife. 

"  There's  no  doubt  that  he  was  a  clever  rogue," 
added  the  strange  creature,  leaning  excitedly  over 
the  table,  and  peering  into  Polly's  face.  "  Do 
you  know  how  that  deadly  poison  was  injected  into 
the  poor  woman's  system?  By  the  simplest  of  all 
means,  one  known  to  every  scoundrel  in  Southern 
Europe.  A  ring — yes!  a  ring,  which  has  a  tiny 
hollow  needle  capable  of  holding  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  prussic  acid  to  have  killed  two  persons 
instead  of  one.  The  man  in  the  tweed  suit  shook 


114         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

hands  with  his  fair  companion — probably  she 
hardly  felt  the  prick,  not  sufficiently  in  any  case 
to  make  her  utter  a  scream.  And,  mind  you,  the 
scoundrel  had  every  facility,  through  his  friend- 
ship with  Mr.  Errington,  of  procuring  what  poison 
he  required,  not  to  mention  his  friend's  visiting 
card.  We  cannot  gauge  how  many  months  ago 
he  began  to  try  and  copy  Frank  Errington  in  his 
style  of  dress,  the  cut  of  his  moustache,  his  general 
appearance,  making  the  change  probably  so 
gradual,  that  no  one  in  his  own  entourage  would 
notice  it.  He  selected  for  his  model  a  man  his 
own  height  and  build,  with  the  same  coloured 
hair." 

"  But  there  was  the  terrible  risk  of  being 
identified  by  his  fellow-traveller  in  the  Under- 
ground," suggested  Polly. 

"Yes,  there  certainly  was  that  risk;  he  chose 
to  take  it,  and  he  was  wise.  He  reckoned  that 
several  days  would  in  any  case  elapse  before  that 
person,  who,  by  the  way,  was  a  business  man 
absorbed  in  his  newspaper,  would  actually  see  him 
again.  The  great  secret  of  successful  crime  is  to 
study  human  nature,"  added  the  man  in  the  corner, 
as  he  began  looking  for  his  hat  and  coat.  "  Ed- 
ward Hazeldene  knew  it  well." 

"But  the  ring?" 

"  He  may  have  bought  that  when  he  was  on  his 
honeymoon,"  he  suggested  with  a  grim  chuckle; 
"  the  tragedy  was  not  planned  in  a  week,  it  may 


MR.    ERRINGTON  115 

have  taken  years  to  mature.  But  you  will  own 
that  there  goes  a  frightful  scoundrel  unhung.  I 
have  left  you  his  photograph  as  he  was  a  year  ago, 
and  as  he  is  now.  You  will  see  he  has  shaved  his 
beard  again,  but  also  his  moustache.  I  fancy  he 
is  a  friend  now  of  Mr.  Andrew  Campbell." 

He  left  me  wondering.  I  don't  know  what  I 
did  believe;  his  whole  story  sounded  so  far-fetched 
and  strange.  Was  he  really  giving  me  the  results 
of  continued  thought,  or  was  he  experimenting  as 
to  exactly  how  far  the  credulity  of  a  lady  novelist 
could  go? 

He  left  Miss  Polly  Burton  wondering,  not 
knowing  what  to  believe. 

And  that  is  why  she  missed  her  appointment 
with  Mr.  Richard  Frobisher  (of  the  London 
Mall]  to  go  and  see  Maud  Allan  dance  at  the 
Palace  Theatre  that  afternoon. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  LIVERPOOL  MYSTERY 

"A  TITLE — a  foreign  title,  I  mean — is  always 
very  useful  for  purposes  of  swindles  and  frauds," 
remarked  the  man  in  the  corner  to  Polly  one  day. 
"  The  cleverest  robberies  of  modern  times  were 
perpetrated  lately  in  Vienna  by  a  man  who  dubbed 
himself  Lord  Seymour;  whilst  over  here  the  same 
class  of  thief  calls  himself  Count  Something  end- 
ing in  '  o,'  or  Prince  the  other,  ending  in  *  off.' ' 

"  Fortunately  for  our  hotel  and  lodging-house 
keepers  over  here,"  she  replied,  "  they  are  begin- 
ning to  be  more  alive  to  the  ways  of  foreign 
swindlers,  and  look  upon  all  titled  gentry  who 
speak  broken  English  as  possible  swindlers  or 
thieves." 

"The  result  sometimes  being  exceedingly  un- 
pleasant to  the  real  grands  seigneurs  who  honour 
this  country  at  times  with  their  visits,"  replied  the 
man  in  the  corner.  "  Now,  take  the  case  of  Prince 
Semionicz,  a  man  whose  sixteen  quarterings  are 
duly  recorded  in  Gotha,  who  carried  enough  lug- 
gage with  him  to  pay  for  the  use  of  every  room  in 
an  hotel  for  at  least  a  week,  whose  gold  cigarette 
case  with  diamond  and  turquoise  ornament  was 
actually  stolen  without  his  taking  the  slightest 

116 


THE   LIVERPOOL   MYSTERY          117 

trouble  to  try  and  recover  it;  that  same  man  was 
undoubtedly  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by  the 
manager  of  the  Liverpool  North-Western  Hotel 
from  the  moment  that  his  secretary — a  dapper, 
somewhat  vulgar,  little  Frenchman — bespoke  on 
behalf  of  his  employer,  with  himself  and  a  valet, 
the  best  suite  of  rooms  the  hotel  contained. 

"  Obviously  those  suspicions  were  unfounded, 
for  the  little  secretary,  as  soon  as  Prince  Semionicz 
had  arrived,  deposited  with  the  manager  a  pile 
of  bank  notes,  also  papers  and  bonds,  the  value  of 
which  would  exceed  tenfold  the  most  outrageous 
bill  that  could  possibly  be  placed  before  the  noble 
visitor.  Moreover,  M.  Albert  Lambert  ex- 
plained that  the  Prince,  who  only  meant  to  stay 
in  Liverpool  a  few  days,  was  on  his  way  to 
Chicago,  where  he  wished  to  visit  Princess  Anna 
Semionicz,  his  sister,  who  was  married  to  Mr.  Gir- 
wan,  the  great  copper  king  and  multi-millionaire. 

'  Yet,  as  I  told  you  before,  in  spite  of  all  these 
undoubted  securities,  suspicion  of  the  wealthy 
Russian  Prince  lurked  in  the  minds  of  most  Liver-t 
pudlians  who  came  in  business  contact  with  him. 
He  had  been  at  the  North-Western  two  days  when 
he  sent  his  secretary  to  Winslow  and  Vassall,  the 
jewellers  of  Bold  Street,  with  a  request  that  they 
would  kindly  send  a  representative  round  to  the 
hotel  with  some  nice  pieces  of  jewellery,  diamonds 
and  pearls  chiefly,  which  he  was  desirous  of  taking 
as  a  present  to  his  sister  in  Chicago. 


ii8         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Mr.  Winslow  took  the  order  from  M.  Albert 
with  a  pleasant  bow.  Then  he  went  to  his  inner 
office  and  consulted  with  his  partner,  Mr.  Vassall, 
as  to  the  best  course  to  adopt.  Both  the  gentle- 
men were  desirous  of  doing  business,  for  business 
had  been  very  slack  lately:  neither  wished  to  re- 
fuse a  possible  customer,  or  to  offend  Mr.  Pettitt, 
the  manager  of  the  North- Western,  who  had  rec- 
ommended them  to  the  Prince.  But  that  foreign 
title  and  the  vulgar  little  French  secretary  stuck 
in  the  throats  of  the  two  pompous  and  worthy 
Liverpool  jewellers,  and  together  they  agreed, 
firstly,  that  no  credit  should  be  given;  and,  sec- 
ondly, that  if  a  cheque  or  even  a  banker's  draft 
were  tendered,  the  jewels  were  not  to  be  given  up 
until  that  cheque  or  draft  was  cashed. 

"  Then  came  the  question  as  to  who  should 
take  the  jewels  to  the  hotel.  It  was  altogether 
against  business  etiquette  for  the  senior  partners 
to  do  such  errands  themselves;  moreover,  it  was 
thought  that  it  would  be  easier  for  a  clerk  to  ex- 
plain, without  giving  undue  offence,  that  he  could 
not  take  the  responsibility  of  a  cheque  or  draft, 
without  having  cashed  it  previously  to  giving  up 
the  jewels. 

"  Then  there  was  the  question  of  the  probable 
necessity  of  conferring  in  a  foreign  tongue.  The 
head  assistant,  Charles  Needham,  who  had  been 
in  the  employ  of  Winslow  and  Vassall  for  over 
twelve  years,  was,  in  true  British  fashion,  ignorant 


THE   LIVERPOOL  MYSTERY          119 

of  any  language  save  his  own ;  it  was  therefore  de- 
cided to  dispatch  Mr.  Schwarz,  a  young  German 
clerk  lately  arrived,  on  the  delicate  errand. 

"  Mr.  Schwarz  was  Mr.  Winslow's  nephew  and 
godson,  a  sister  of  that  gentleman  having  married 
the  head  of  the  great  German  firm  of  Schwarz 
&  Co.,  silversmiths,  of  Hamburg  and  Berlin. 

"  The  young  man  had  soon  become  a  great  fa- 
vourite with  his  uncle,  whose  heir  he  would  pre- 
sumably be,  as  Mr.  Winslow  had  no  children. 

"  At  first  Mr.  Vassall  made  some  demur  about 
sending  Mr.  Schwarz  with  so  many  valuable 
jewels  alone  in  a  city  which  he  had  not  yet  had 
the  time  to  study  thoroughly;  but  finally  he  al- 
lowed himself  to  be  persuaded  by  his  senior  part- 
ner, and  a  fine  selection  of  necklaces,  pendants, 
bracelets,  and  rings,  amounting  in  value  to  over 
£16,000,  having  been  made,  it  was  decided  that 
Mr.  Schwarz  should  go  to  the  North-Western  in 
a  cab  the  next  day  at  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  This  he  accordingly  did,  the  follow- 
ing day  being  a  Thursday. 

"  Business  went  on  in  the  shop  as  usual  under 
the  direction  of  the  head  assistant,  until  about 
seven  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Winslow  returned  from 
his  club,  where  he  usually  spent  an  hour  over  the 
papers  every  afternoon,  and  at  once  asked  for  his 
nephew.  To  his  astonishment  Mr.  Needham  in- 
formed him  that  Mr.  Schwarz  had  not  yet  re- 
turned. This  seemed  a  little  strange,  and  Mr. 


120         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Winslow,  with  a  slightly  anxious  look  in  his  face, 
went  into  the  inner  office  in  order  to  consult  his 
junior  partner.  Mr.  Vassall  offered  to  go  round 
to  the  hotel  and  interview  Mr.  Pettitt. 

'  I  was  beginning  to  get  anxious  myself,'  he 
said,  *  but  did  not  quite  like  to  say  so.  I  have 
been  in  over  half  an  hour,  hoping  every  moment 
that  you  would  come  in,  and  that  perhaps  you 
could  give  me  some  reassuring  news.  I  thought 
that  perhaps  you  had  met  Mr.  Schwarz,  and  were 
coming  back  together.' 

"However,  Mr.  Vassall  walked  round  to  the 
hotel  and  interviewed  the  hall  porter.  The  latter 
perfectly  well  remembered  Mr.  Schwarz  sending 
in  his  card  to  Prince  Semionicz. 

"  '  At  what  time  was  that?  '  asked  Mr.  Vassall. 

1  *  About  ten  minutes  past  three,  sir,  when  he 

came;  it  was  about  an  hour  later  when  he  left.' 

*  When  he  left?  '  gasped,  more  than  said,  Mr. 
Vassall. 

*  Yes,  sir.     Mr.  Schwarz  left  here  about  a 
quarter  before  four,  sir.' 

"  *  Are  you  quite  sure? ' 

"'Quite  sure.  Mr.  Pettitt  was  in  the  hall 
when  he  left,  and  he  asked  him  something  about 
business.  Mr.  Schwarz  laughed  and  said,  "  not 
bad."  I  hope  there's  nothing  wrong,  sir,'  added 
the  man. 

"  '  Oh — er — nothing — thank  you.  Can  I  see 
Mr.  Pettitt?' 


THE   LIVERPOOL   MYSTERY          121 

"  '  Certainly,  sir.' 

"  Mr.  Pettitt,  the  manager  of  the  hotel,  shared 
Mr.  Vassall's  anxiety,  immediately  he  heard 
that  the  young  German  had  not  yet  returned 
home. 

"'I  spoke  to  him  a  little  before  four  o'clock. 
We  had  just  switched  on  the  electric  light,  which 
we  always  do  these  winter  months  at  that  hour. 
But  I  shouldn't  worry  myself,  Mr.  Vassall;  the 
young  man  may  have  seen  to  some  business  on 
his  way  home.  .You'll  probably  find  him  in  when 
you  go  back.' 

"  Apparently  somewhat  reassurred,  Mr.  Vassall 
thanked  Mr.  Pettitt  and  hurried  back  to  the  shop, 
only  to  find  that  Mr.  Schwarz  had  not  returned, 
though  it  was  now  close  on  eight  o'clock. 

"Mr.  Winslow  looked  so  haggard  and  upset 
that  it  would  have  been  cruel  to  heap  reproaches 
upon  his  other  troubles  or  to  utter  so  much  as  the 
faintest  suspicion  that  young  Schwarz's  permanent 
disappearance  with  £16,000  in  jewels  and  money 
was  within  the  bounds  of  probability. 

"  There  was  one  chance  left,  but  under  the  cir- 
cumstances a  very  slight  one  indeed.  The  Wins- 
lows'  private  house  was  up  the  Birkenhead  end 
of  the  town.  Young  Schwarz  had  been  living 
with  them  ever  since  his  arrival  in  Liverpool,  and 
he  may  have — either  not  feeling  well  or  for  some 
other  reason — gone  straight  home  without  calling 
at  the  shop.  It  was  unlikely,  as  valuable  jewellery 


122         THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

was  never  kept  at  the  private  house,  but — it  just 
might  have  happened. 

"  It  would  be  useless,"  continued  the  man  in 
the  corner,  "  and  decidedly  uninteresting  were  I 
to  relate  to  you  Messrs.  Winslow's  and  Vassall's 
further  anxieties  with  regard  to  the  missing  young 
man.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  on  reaching  his  private 
house  Mr.  Winslow  found  that  his  godson  had 
neither  returned  nor  sent  any  telegraphic  message 
of  any  kind. 

"  Not  wishing  to  needlessly  alarm  his  wife,  Mr. 
Winslow  made  an  attempt  at  eating  his  dinner, 
but  directly  after  that  he  hurried  back  to  the 
North-Western  Hotel,  and  asked  to  see  Prince 
Semionicz.  The  Prince  was  at  the  theatre  with 
his  secretary,  and  probably  would  not  be  home 
until  nearly  midnight. 

"  Mr.  Winslow,  then,  not  knowing  what  to 
think,  nor  yet  what  to  fear,  and  in  spite  of  the 
horror  he  felt  of  giving  publicity  to  his  nephew's 
disappearance,  thought  it  his  duty  to  go  round 
to  the  police-station  and  interview  the  inspector. 
It  is  wonderful  how  quickly  news  of  that  type 
travels  in  a  large  city  like  Liverpool.  Already  the 
morning  papers  of  the  following  day  were  full  of 
the  latest  sensation :  '  Mysterious  disappearance 
of  a  well-known  tradesman.' 

"  Mr.  Winslow  found  a  copy  of  the  paper  con- 
taining the  sensational  announcement  on  his  break- 
fast-table. It  lay  side  by  side  with  a  letter  ad- 


THE   LIVERPOOL   MYSTERY          123 

dressed  to  him  in  his  nephew's  handwriting,  which 
had  been  posted  in  Liverpool, 

"  Mr.  Winslow  placed  that  letter,  written  to 
him  by  his  nephew,  into  the  hands  of  the  police. 
Its  contents,  therefore,  quickly  became  public 
property.  The  astounding  statements  made 
therein  by  Mr.  Schwarz  created,  in  quiet,  business- 
like Liverpool,  a  sensation  which  has  seldom  been 
equalled. 

"  It  appears  that  the  young  fellow  did  call  on 
Prince  Semionicz  at  a  quarter  past  three  on 
Wednesday,  December  loth,  with  a  bag  full  of 
jewels,  amounting  in  value  to  some  £16,000.  The 
Prince  duly  admired,  and  finally  selected  from 
among  the  ornaments  a  necklace,  pendant,  and 
bracelet,  the  whole  being  priced  by  Mr.  Schwarz, 
according  to  his  instructions,  at  £10,500.  Prince 
Semionicz  was  most  prompt  and  business-like  in 
his  dealings. 

'You  will  require  immediate  payment  for 
these,  of  course,'  he  said  in  perfect  English,  '  and 
I  know  you  business  men  prefer  solid  cash  to 
cheques,  especially  when  dealing  with  foreigners. 
I  always  provide  myself  with  plenty  of  Bank  of 
England  notes  in  consequence,'  he  added  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  'as  £10,500  in  gold  would  per- 
haps be  a  little  inconvenient  to  carry.  If  you  will 
kindly  make  out  the  receipt,  my  secretary,  M. 
Lambert,  will  settle  all  business  matters  with  you.' 

"  He  thereupon  took  the  jewels  he  had  selected 


124         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

and  locked  them  up  in  his  dressing-case,  the  beau- 
tiful silver  fittings  of  which  Mr.  Schwarz  just 
caught  a  short  glimpse  of.  Then,  having  been 
accommodated  with  paper  and  ink,  the  young 
jeweller  made  out  the  account  and  receipt,  whilst 
Mr.  Lambert,  the  secretary,  counted  out  before 
him  105  crisp  Bank  of  England  notes  of  £100 
each.  Then,  with  a  final  bow  to  his  exceedingly 
urbane  and  eminently  satisfactory  customer,  Mr. 
Schwarz  took  his  leave.  In  the  hall  he  saw  and 
spoke  to  Mr.  Pettitt,  and  then  he  went  out  into  the 
street. 

"  He  had  just  left  the  hotel  and  was  about  to 
cross  towards  St.  George's  Hall  when  a  gentle- 
man, in  a  magnificent  fur  coat,  stepped  quickly 
out  of  a  cab  which  had  been  stationed  near  the 
kerb,  and,  touching  him  lightly  upon  the  shoulder, 
said  with  an  unmistakable  air  of  authority,  at  the 
same  time  handing  him  a  card: 

"  *  That  is  my  name.  I  must  speak  with  you 
immediately.' 

"  Schwarz  glanced  at  the  card,  and  by  the  light 
of  the  arc  lamps  above  his  head  read  on  it  the 
name  of  *  Dimitri  Slaviansky  Burgreneff,  de  la 
Hie  Section  de  la  Police  Imperial  de  S.  M.  le 
[Czar.' 

"Quickly  the  owner  of  the  unpronounceable 
name  and  the  significant  title  pointed  to  the  cab 
from  which  he  had  just  alighted,  and  Schwarz, 
whose  every  suspicion  with  regard  to  his  princely 


««  '  I  MUST  SPEAK   WITH  YOU  IMMEDIATELY 


THE   LIVERPOOL   MYSTERY          125 

customer  bristled  up  in  one  moment,  clutched  his 
bag  and  followed  his  imposing  interlocutor;  as 
soon  as  they  were  both  comfortably  seated  in  the 
cab  the  latter  began,  with  courteous  apology  in 
broken  but  fluent  English : 

" '  I  must  ask  your  pardon,  sir,  for  thus  tres- 
passing upon  your  valuable  time,  and  I  certainly 
should  not  have  done  so  but  for  the  certainty 
that  our  interests  in  a  certain  matter  which  I  have 
in  hand  are  practically  identical,  in  so  far  that 
we  both  should  wish  to  outwit  a  clever  rogue.* 

"  Instinctively,  and  his  mind  full  of  terrible  ap- 
prehension, Mr.  Schwarz's  hand  wandered  to  his 
pocket-book,  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  bank- 
notes which  he  had  so  lately  received  from  the 
Prince. 

'  Ah,  I  see,'  interposed  the  courteous  Russian 
with  a  smile,  'he  has  played  the  confidence  trick 
on  you,  with  the  usual  addition  of  so  many  so- 
called  bank-notes.' 

1  *  So-called,'    gasped    the    unfortunate   young 
man. 

"  *  I  don't  think  I  often  err  in  my  estimate  of 
my  own  countrymen,'  continued  M.  Burgreneff; 
4 1  have  vast  experience,  you  must  remember. 
Therefore,  I  doubt  if  I  am  doing  M. — er — what 
does  he  call  himself? — Prince  something — an  in- 
justice if  I  assert,  even  without  handling  those 
crisp  bits  of  paper  you  have  in  your  pocket-book, 
that  no  bank  would  exchange  them  for  gold.' 


126         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Remembering  his  uncle's  suspicions  and  his 
own,  Mr.  Schwarz  cursed  himself  for  his  blindness 
and  folly  in  accepting  notes  so  easily  without  for 
a  moment  imagining  that  they  might  be  false. 
Now,  with  everyone  of  those  suspicions  fully  on 
the  alert,  he  felt  the  bits  of  paper  with  nervous, 
anxious  fingers,  while  the  imperturbable  Russian 
calmly  struck  a  match. 

"  '  See  here,'  he  said,  pointing  to  one  of  the 
notes,  'the  shape  of  that  "w"  in  the  signature  of 
the  chief  cashier.  I  am  not  an  English  police 
officer,  but  I  could  pick  out  that  spurious  "  w  " 
among  a  thousand  genuine  ones.  You  see,  I  have 
seen  a  good  many.' 

"  Now,  of  course,  poor  young  Schwarz  had 
not  seen  very  many  Bank  of  England  notes.  He 
could  not  have  told  whether  one  "  w "  in  Mr. 
Bowen's  signature  is  better  than  another,  but, 
though  he  did  not  speak  English  nearly  as  fluently 
as  his  pompous  interlocutor,  he  understood  every 
word  of  the  appalling  statement  the  latter  had 
just  made. 

"  *  Then     that     Prince,'     he     said,     '  at    the 

hotel ' 

'  Is  no  more  Prince  than  you  and  I,  my  dear 
sir,'  concluded  the  gentleman  of  His  Imperial 
Majesty's  police  calmly. 

"  *  And  the  jewels?     Mr.  Winslow's  jewels?' 

'With  the  jewels  there  may  be  a  chance — oh! 
a  mere  chance.  These  forged  bank-notes,  which 


THE   LIVERPOOL   MYSTERY  127 

you  accepted  so  trustingly,  may  prove  the  means 
of  recovering  your  property.' 

"'How?' 

" c  The  penalty  of  forging  and  circulating 
spurious  bank-notes  is  very  heavy.  You  know 
that.  The  fear  of  seven  years'  penal  servitude 
will  act  as  a  wonderful  sedative  upon  the — er — 
Prince's  joyful  mood.  He  will  give  up  the  jewels 
to  me  all  right  enough,  never  you  fear.  He 
knows,'  added  the  Russian  officer  grimly,  '  that 
there  are  plenty  of  old  scores  to  settle  up,  without 
the  additional  one  of  forged  bank-notes.  Our  in- 
terests, you  see,  are  identical.  May  I  rely  on  your 
co-operation?' 

"  '  Oh,  I  will  do  as  you  wish,'  said  the  de- 
lighted young  German.  *  Mr.  Winslow  and  Mr. 
Vassall,  they  trusted  me,  and  I  have  been  such  a 
fool.  I  hope  it  is  not  too  late.' 

"  *  I  think  not,'  said  M.  Burgreneff,  his  hand 
already  on  the  door  of  the  cab.  '  Though  I  have 
been  talking  to  you  I  have  kept  an  eye  on  the 
hotel,  and  our  friend  the  Prince  has  not  yet  gone 
out.  We  are  accustomed,  you  know,  to  have  eyes 
everywhere,  we  of  the  Russian  secret  police.  I 
don't  think  that  I  will  ask  you  to  be  present  at 
the  confrontation.  Perhaps  you  will  wait  for  me 
in  the  cab.  There  is  a  nasty  fog  outside,  and  you 
will  be  more  private.  Will  you  give  me  those 
beautiful  bank-notes?  Thank  you!  Don't  be 
anxious.  I  won't  be  long.' 


ia8         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  He  lifted  his  hat,  and  slipped  the  notes  into 
the  inner  pocket  of  his  magnificent  fur  coat.  As 
he  did  so,  Mr.  Schwarz  caught  sight  of  a  rich  uni- 
form and  a  wide  sash,  which  no  doubt  was  destined 
to  carry  additional  moral  weight  with  the  clever 
rogue  upstairs. 

"Then  His  Imperial  Majesty's  police  officer 
stepped  quickly  out  of  the  cab,  and  Mr.  Schwarz 
was  left  alone." 


A   CUNNING  RASCAL 

"  YES,  left  severely  alone,"  continued  the  man  in 
the  corner  with  a  sarcastic  chuckle.  "  So  severely 
alone,  in  fact,  that  one  quarter  of  an  hour  after 
another  passed  by  and  still  the  magnificent  police 
officer  in  the  gorgeous  uniform  did  not  return. 
Then,  when  it  was  too  late,  Schwarz  cursed  him- 
self once  again  for  the  double-dyed  idiot  that  he 
was.  He  had  been  only  too  ready  to  believe  that 
Prince  Semionicz  was  a  liar  and  a  rogue,  and  un- 
der these  unjust  suspicions  he  had  fallen  an  all  too 
easy  prey  to  one  of  the  most  cunning  rascals  he 
had  ever  come  across. 

"  An  inquiry  from  the  hall  porter  at  the  North- 
Western  elicited  the  fact  that  no  such  personage 
as  Mr.  Schwarz  described  had  entered  the  hotel. 
The  young  man  asked  to  see  Prince  Semionicz, 
hoping  against  hope  that  all  was  not  yet  lost.  The 
Prince  received  him  most  courteously;  he  was 
dictating  some  letters  to  his  secretary,  while  the 
valet  was  in  the  next  room  preparing  his  master's 
evening  clothes.  Mr.  Schwarz  found  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  explain  what  he  actually  did  want. 

"There  stood  the  dressing-case  in  which  the 
129 


130         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Prince  had  locked  up  the  jewels,  and  there  the 
bag  from  which  the  secretary  had  taken  the  bank- 
notes. After  much  hesitation  on  Schwarz's  part 
and  much  impatience  on  that  of  the  Prince,  the 
young  man  blurted  out  the  whole  story  of  the  so- 
called  Russian  police  officer  whose  card  he  still 
held  in  his  hand. 

"  The  Prince,  it  appears,  took  the  whole  thing 
wonderfully  good-naturedly;  no  doubt  he  thought 
the  jeweller  a  hopeless  fool.  He  showed  him  the 
jewels,  the  receipt  he  held,  and  also  a  large  bundle 
of  bank-notes  similar  to  those  Schwarz  had  with 
such  culpable  folly  given  up  to  the  clever  rascal 
in  the  cab. 

" '  I  pay  all  my  bills  with  Bank  of  England 
notes,  Mr.  Schwarz.  It  would  have  been  wiser, 
perhaps,  if  you  had  spoken  to  the  manager  of  the 
hotel  about  me  before  you  were  so  ready  to  believe 
any  cock-and-bull  story  about  my  supposed 
rogueries.' 

"  Finally  he  placed  a  small  1 6mo  volume  before 
the  young  jeweller,  and  said  with  a  pleasant 
smile: 

"  *  If  people  in  this  country  who  are  in  a  large 
way  of  business,  and  are  therefore  likely  to  come 
in  contact  with  people  of  foreign  nationality,  were 
to  study  these  little  volumes  before  doing  business 
with  any  foreigner  who  claims  a  title,  much  disap- 
pointment and  a  great  loss  would  often  be  saved. 
Now  in  this  case  had  you  looked  up  page  797  of 


A   CUNNING   RASCAL  131 

this  little  volume  of  Gotha's  Almanach  you  would 
have  seen  my  name  in  it  and  known  from  the 
first  that  the  so-called  Russian  detective  was  a 
liar.' 

"There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  and  Mr. 
Schwarz  left  the  hotel.  No  doubt,  now  that  he 
had  been  hopelessly  duped,  he  dared  not  go  home, 
and  half  hoped  by  communicating  with  the  police 
that  they  might  succeed  in  arresting  the  thief 
before  he  had  time  to  leave  Liverpool.  He  inter- 
viewed Detective-Inspector  Watson,  and  was  at 
once  confronted  with  the  awful  difficulty  which 
would  make  the  recovery  of  the  bank-notes  prac- 
tically hopeless.  He  had  never  had  the  time  or 
opportunity  of  jotting  down  the  numbers  of  the 
notes. 

"  Mr.  Winslow,  though  terribly  wrathful 
against  his  nephew,  did  not  wish  to  keep  him  out 
of  his  home.  As  soon  as  he  had  received 
Schwarz's  letter,  he  traced  him,  with  Inspector 
Watson's  help,  to  his  lodgings  in  North  Street, 
where  the  unfortunate  young  man  meant  to  re- 
main hidden  until  the  terrible  storm  had  blown 
over,  or  perhaps  until  the  thief  had  been  caught 
red-handed  with  the  booty  still  in  his  hands. 

"  This  happy  event,  needless  to  say,  never  did 
occur,  though  the  police  made  every  effort  to  trace 
the  man  who  had  decoyed  Schwarz  into  the  cab. 
His  appearance  was  such  an  uncommon  one;  it 
seemed  most  unlikely  that  no  one  in  Liverpool 


132         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

should  have  noticed  him  after  he  left  that  cab. 
The  wonderful  fur  coat,  the  long  beard,  all  must 
have  been  noticeable,  even  though  it  was  past  four 
o'clock  on  a  somewhat  foggy  December  after- 
noon. 

"  But  every  investigation  proved  futile;  no  one 
answering  Schwarz's  description  of  the  man  had 
been  seen  anywhere.  The  papers  continued  to 
refer  to  the  case  as  '  the  Liverpool  Mystery.' 
Scotland  Yard  sent  Mr.  Fairburn  down — the  cele- 
brated detective — at  the  request  of  the  Liverpool 
police,  to  help  in  the  investigations,  but  nothing 
availed. 

"  Prince  Semionicz,  with  his  suite,  left  Liver- 
pool, and  he  who  had  attempted  to  blacken  his 
character,  and  had  succeeded  in  robbing  Messrs. 
Winslow  and  Vassall  of  £10,500,  had  completely 
disappeared." 

The  man  in  the  corner  readjusted  his  collar  and 
necktie,  which,  during  the  narrative  of  this  inter- 
esting mystery,  had  worked  its  way  up  his  long, 
crane-like  neck  under  his  large  flappy  ears.  His 
costume  of  checked  tweed  of  a  peculiarly  loud  pat- 
tern had  tickled  the  fancy  of  some  of  the  wait- 
resses, who  were  standing  gazing  at  him  and 
giggling  in  one  corner.  This  evidently  made  him 
nervous.  He  gazed  up  very  meekly  at  Polly, 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  bald-headed  ad- 
jutant dressed  for  a  holiday. 

"  Of  course,  all  sorts  of  theories  of  the  theft  got 


A  CUNNING   RASCAL  133 

about  at  first.  One  of  the  most  popular,  and  at 
the  same  time  most  quickly  exploded,  being  that 
young  Schwarz  had  told  a  cock-and-bull  story,  and 
was  the  actual  thief  himself. 

"  However,  as  I  said  before,  that  was  very 
quickly  exploded,  as  Mr.  Schwarz  senior,  a  very 
wealthy  merchant,  never  allowed  his  son's  care- 
lessness to  be  a  serious  loss  to  his  kind  employers. 
As  soon  as  he  thoroughly  grasped  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  extraordinary  case,  he  drew  a  cheque 
for  £10,500  and  remitted  it  to  Messrs.  Winslow 
and  Vassall.  It  was  just,  but  it  was  also  high- 
minded. 

"  All  Liverpool  knew  of  the  generous  action,  as 
Mr.  Winslow  took  care  that  it  should;  and  any 
evil  suspicion  regarding  young  Mr.  Schwarz  van- 
ished as  quickly  as  it  had  come. 

"Then,  of  course,  there  was  the  theory  about 
the  Prince  and  his  suite,  and  to  this  day  I  fancy 
there  are  plenty  of  people  in  Liverpool,  and  also 
in  London,  who  declare  that  the  so-called  Russian 
police  officer  was  a  confederate.  No  doubt  that 
theory  was  very  plausible,  and  Messrs.  Winslow 
and  Vassall  spent  a  good  deal  of  money  in  trying 
to  prove  a  case  against  the  Russian  Prince. 

"  Very  soon,  however,  that  theory  was  also 
bound  to  collapse.  Mr.  Fairburn,  whose  reputa- 
tion as  an  investigator  of  crime  waxes  in  direct 
inverted  ratio  to  his  capacities,  did  hit  upon  the 
obvious  course  of  interviewing  the  managers  of  the 


134         THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

larger  London  and  Liverpool  agents  de  change. 
He  soon  found  that  Prince  Semionicz  had  con- 
verted a  great  deal  of  Russian  and  French  money 
into  English  bank-notes  since  his  arrival  in  this 
country.  More  than  £30,000  in  good  solid, 
honest  money  was  traced  to  the  pockets  of  the 
gentleman  with  the  sixteen  quarterings.  It 
seemed,  therefore,  more  than  improbable  that  a 
man  who  was  obviously  fairly  wealthy  would  risk 
imprisonment  and  hard  labour,  if  not  worse,  for 
the  sake  of  increasing  his  fortune  by  £10,000. 

"  However,  the  theory  of  the  Prince's  guilt  has 
taken  firm  root  in  the  dull  minds  of  our  police  au- 
thorities. They  have  had  every  information  with 
regard  to  Prince  Semionicz's  antecedents  from 
Russia;  his  position,  his  wealth,  have  been  placed 
above  suspicion,  and  yet  they  suspect  and  go  on 
suspecting  him  or  his  secretary.  They  have  com- 
municated with  the  police  of  every  European 
capital;  and  while  they  still  hope  to  obtain  suffi- 
cient evidence  against  those  they  suspect,  they 
calmly  allow  the  guilty  to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  his 
clever  roguery." 

"The  guilty?"  cried  Polly.  "Who  do  you 
think " 

"  Who  do  I  think  knew  at  that  moment  that 
young  Schwarz  had  money  in  his  possession?"  he 
said  excitedly,  wriggling  in  his  chair  like  a  jack- 
in-the-box.  "  Obviously  someone  was  guilty  of 
that  theft  who  knew  that  Schwarz  had  gone  to  in- 


A  CUNNING   RASCAL  135 

terview  a  rich  Russian,  and  would  in  all  probability 
return  with  a  large  sum  of  money  in  his  posses- 
sion?" 

"  Who,  indeed,  but  the  Prince  and  his  secre- 
tary? "  she  argued.  "  But  just  now  you  said " 

"Just  now  I  said  that  the  police  were  deter- 
mined to  find  the  Prince  and  his  secretary  guilty; 
they  did  not  look  further  than  their  own  stumpy 
noses.  Messrs.  Winslow  and  Vassall  spent  money 
with  a  free  hand  in  those  investigations.  Mr. 
Winslow,  as  the  senior  partner,  stood  to  lose  over 
£9000  by  that  robbery.  Now,  with  Mr.  Vassall 
it  was  different. 

"  When  I  saw  how  the  police  went  on  blunder- 
ing in  this  case  I  took  the  trouble  to  make  certain 
inquiries,  the  whole  thing  interested  me  so  much, 
and  I  learnt  all  that  I  wished  to  know.  I  found 
out,  namely,  that  Mr.  Vassall  was  very  much  a 
junior  partner  in  the  firm,  that  he  only  drew  ten 
per  cent,  of  the  profits,  having  been  promoted 
lately  to  a  partnership  from  having  been  senior 
assistant. 

"  Now,  the  police  did  not  take  the  trouble  to 
find  that  out." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  that " 

"  I  mean  that  in  all  cases  where  robbery  affects 
more  than  one  person  the  first  thing  to  find  out 
is  whether  it  affects  the  second  party  equally  with 
the  first.  I  proved  that  to  you,  didn't  I,  over 
that  robbery  in  Phillimore  Terrace?  There,  as 


136         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

here,  one  of  the  two  parties  stood  to  lose  very 
little  in  comparison  with  the  other " 

"  Even  then "  she  began. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  for  I  found  out  something 
more.  The  moment  I  had  ascertained  that  Mr. 
Vassall  was  not  drawing  more  than  about  £500 
a  year  from  the  business  profits  I  tried  to  ascer- 
tain at  what  rate  he  lived  and  what  were  his 
chief  vices.  I  found  that  he  kept  a  fine  house  in 
Albert  Terrace.  Now,  the  rents  of  those  houses 
are  £250  a  year.  Therefore  speculation,  horse- 
racing  or  some  sort  of  gambling,  must  help  to 
keep  up  that  establishment.  Speculation  and  most 
forms  of  gambling  are  synonymous  with  debt  and 
ruin.  It  is  only  a  question  of  time.  Whether 
Mr.  Vassall  was  in  debt  or  not  at  the  time,  that  I 
cannot  say,  but  this  I  do  know,  that  ever  since 
that  unfortunate  loss  to  him  of  about  £1000  he  has 
kept  his  house  in  nicer  style  than  before,  and  he 
now  has  a  good  banking  account  at  the  Lancashire 
and  Liverpool  bank,  which  he  opened  a  year  after 
his  '  heavy  loss.'  " 

"  But  it  must  have  been  very  difficult " 

argued  Polly. 

"  What  ?  "  he  said.  "  To  have  planned  out  the 
whole  thing?  For  carrying  it  out  was  mere 
child's  play.  He  had  twenty-four  hours  in  which 
to  put  his  plan  into  execution.  Why,  what  was 
there  to  do?  Firstly,  to  go  to  a  local  printer  in 
some  out-of-the-way  part  of  the  town  and  get  him 


A  CUNNING   RASCAL  137 

to  print  a  few  cards  with  the  high-sounding  name. 
That,  of  course,  is  done  *  while  you  wait.'  Be- 
yond that  there  was  the  purchase  of  a  good  sec- 
ond-hand uniform,  fur  coat,  and  a  beard  and  a  wig 
from  a  costumier's. 

"  No,  no,  the  execution  was  not  difficult;  it  was 
the  planning  of  it  all,  the  daring  that  was  so  fine. 
Schwarz,  of  course,  was  a  foreigner;  he  had  only 
been  in  England  a  little  over  a  fortnight.  Vas- 
sall's  broken  English  misled  him ;  probably  he  did 
not  know  the  junior  partner  very  intimately.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  but  for  his  uncle's  absurd 
British  prejudice  and  suspicions  against  the  Rus- 
sian Prince,  Schwarz  would  not  have  been  so  ready 
to  believe  in  the  latter's  roguery.  As  I  said,  it 
would  be  a  great  boon  if  English  tradesmen 
studied  Gotha  more;  but  it  was  clever,  wasn't  it? 
I  couldn't  have  done  it  much  better  myself." 

That  last  sentence  was  so  characteristic.  Be- 
fore Polly  could  think  of  some  plausible  argument 
against  his  theory  he  was  gone,  and  she  was  try- 
ing vainly  to  find  another  solution  to  the  Liver- 
pool mystery. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE   EDINBURGH    MYSTERY 

THE  man  in  the  corner  had  not  enjoyed  his  lunch. 
Miss  Polly  Burton  could  see  that  he  had  some- 
thing on  his  mind,  for,  even  before  he  began  to 
talk  that  morning,  he  was  fidgeting  with  his  bit  of 
string,  and  setting  all  her  nerves  on  the  jar. 

"  Have  you  ever  felt  real  sympathy  with  a 
criminal  or  a  thief?  "  he  asked  her  after  a  while. 

"  Only  once,  I  think,"  she  replied,  "  and  then 
I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  unfortunate  woman 
who  did  enlist  my  sympathies  was  the  criminal  you 
make  her  out  to  be." 

"You  mean  the  heroine  of  the  York  mystery?  " 
he  replied  blandly.  "  I  know  that  you  tried  very 
hard  that  time  to  discredit  the  only  possible  ver- 
sion of  that  mysterious  murder,  the  version  which 
is  my  own.  Now,  I  am  equally  sure  that  you  have 
at  the  present  moment  no  more  notion  as  to  who 
killed  and  robbed  poor  Lady  Donaldson  in  Char- 
lotte Square,  Edinburgh,  than  the  police  have 
themselves,  and  yet  you  are  fully  prepared  to  pooh- 
pooh  my  arguments,  and  to  disbelieve  my  version 
of  the  mystery.  Such  is  the  lady  journalist's 
mind." 

138 


THE    EDINBURGH    MYSTERY         139 

"If  you  have  some  cock-and-bull  story  to  ex- 
plain that  extraordinary  case,"  she  retorted,  "  of 
course  I  shall  disbelieve  it.  Certainly,  if  you  are 
going  to  try  and  enlist  my  sympathies  on  behalf 
of  Edith  Crawford,  I  can  assure  you  you  won't 
succeed." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  that  is  altogether  my 
intention.  I  see  you  are  interested  in  the  case, 
but  I  dare  say  you  don't  remember  all  the  cir- 
cumstances. You  must  forgive  me  if  I  repeat  that 
which  you  know  already.  If  you  have  ever  been 
to  Edinburgh  at  all,  you  will  have  heard  of  Gra- 
ham's bank,  and  Mr.  Andrew  Graham,  the  pres- 
ent head  of  the  firm,  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
most  prominent  notabilities  of  '  modern  Athens.' ' 

The  man  in  the  corner  took  two  or  three  photos 
from  his  pocket-book  and  placed  them  before  the 
young  girl;  then,  pointing  at  them  with  his  long 
bony  finger — 

'  That,"  he  said,  "  is  Mr.  Elphinstone  Graham, 
the  eldest  son,  a  typical  young  Scotchman,  as  you 
see,  and  this  is  David  Graham,  the  second  son." 

Polly  looked  more  closely  at  this  last  photo,  and 
saw  before  her  a  young  face,  upon  which  some 
lasting  sorrow  seemed  already  to  have  left  its 
mark.  The  face  was  delicate  and  thin,  the  fea- 
tures pinched,  and  the  eyes  seemed  almost  unnatur- 
ally large  and  prominent. 

"  He  was  deformed,"  commented  the  man  in 
the  corner  in  answer  to  the  girl's  thoughts,  "  and, 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

as  such,  an  object  of  pity  and  even  of  repugnance 
to  most  of  his  friends.  There  was  also  a  good 
deal  of  talk  in  Edinburgh  society  as  to  his  mental 
condition,  his  mind,  according  to  many  intimate 
friends  of  the  Grahams,  being  at  times  decidedly 
unhinged.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  fancy  that  his 
life  must  have  been  a  very  sad  one;  he  had  lost  his 
mother  when  quite  a  baby,  and  his  father  seemed, 
strangely  enough,  to  have  an  almost  unconquer- 
able dislike  towards  him. 

"  Everyone  got  to  know  presently  of  David 
Graham's  sad  position  in  his  father's  own  house, 
and  also  of  the  great  affection  lavished  upon  him 
by  his  godmother,  Lady  Donaldson,  who  was  a 
sister  of  Mr.  Graham's. 

"She  was  a  lady  of  considerable  wealth,  being 
the  widow  of  Sir  George  Donaldson,  the  great 
distiller;  but  she  seems  to  have  been  decidedly 
eccentric.  Latterly  she  had  astonished  all  her 
family — who  were  rigid  Presbyterians — by  an- 
nouncing her  intention  of  embracing  the  Roman 
Catholic  faith,  and  then  retiring  to  the  convent  of 
St.  Augustine's  at  Newton  Abbot  in  Devonshire. 

"  She  had  sole  and  absolute  control  of  the  vast 
fortune  which  a  doting  husband  had  bequeathed 
to  her.  Clearly,  therefore,  she  was  at  liberty  to 
bestow  it  upon  a  Devonshire  convent  if  she  chose. 
But  this  evidently  was  not  altogether  her  intention. 

"  I  told  you  how  fond  she  was  of  her  deformed 
godson,  did  I  not?  Being  a  bundle  of  eccentric- 


THE   EDINBURGH    MYSTERY         141 

ities,  she  had  many  hobbies,  none  more  pro- 
nounced than  the  fixed  determination  to  see — be- 
fore retiring  from  the  world  altogether — David 
Graham  happily  married. 

"Now,  it  appears  that  David  Graham,  ugly, 
deformed,  half-demented  as  he  was,  had  fallen 
desperately  in  love  with  Miss  Edith  Crawford, 
daughter  of  the  late  Dr.  Crawford,  of  Prince's 
Gardens.  The  young  lady,  however — very  natu- 
rally, perhaps — fought  shy  of  David  Graham, 
who,  about  this  time,  certainly  seemed  very  queer 
and  morose,  but  Lady  Donaldson,  with  character- 
istic determination,  seems  to  have  made  up  her 
mind  to  melt  Miss  Crawford's  heart  towards  her 
unfortunate  nephew. 

"  On  October  the  2nd  last,  at  a  family  party 
given  by  Mr.  Graham  in  his  fine  mansion  in  Char- 
lotte Square,  Lady  Donaldson  openly  announced 
her  intention  of  making  over,  by  deed  of  gift,  to 
her  nephew,  David  Graham,  certain  property," 
money,  and  shares,  amounting  in  total  value  to 
the  sum  of  £100,000,  and  also  her  magnificent 
diamonds,  which  were  worth  £50,000,  for  the  use 
of  the  said  David's  wife.  Keith  Macfinlay,  a 
lawyer  of  Prince's  Street,  received  the  next  day 
instructions  for  drawing  up  the  necessary  deed  of 
gift,  which  she  pledged  herself  to  sign  the  day  of 
her  godson's  wedding. 

"A  week  later  The  Scotsman  contained  the 
following  paragraph: 


142         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

"  *  A  marriage  is  arranged  and  will  shortly  take 
place  between  David,  younger  son  of  Andrew 
Graham,  Esq.,  of  Charlotte  Square,  Edinburgh 
and  Dochnakirk,  Perthshire,  and  Edith  Lillian, 
only  surviving  daughter  of  the  late  Dr.  Kenneth 
Crawford,  of  Prince's  Gardens.' 

"  In  Edinburgh  society  comments  were  loud  and 
various  upon  the  forthcoming  marriage,  and,  on 
the  whole,  these  comments  were  far  from  compli- 
mentary to  the  families  concerned.  I  do  not  think 
that  the  Scotch  are  a  particularly  sentimental  race, 
but  there  was  such  obvious  buying,  selling,  and 
bargaining  about  this  marriage  that  Scottish 
chivalry  rose  in  revolt  at  the  thought. 

"Against  that  the  three  people  most  concerned 
seemed  perfectly  satisfied.  David  Graham  was 
positively  transformed;  his  moroseness  was  gone 
from  him,  he  lost  his  queer  ways  and  wild  man- 
ners, and  became  gentle  and  affectionate  in  the 
midst  of  this  great  and  unexpected  happiness. 
Miss  Edith  Crawford  ordered  her  trousseau,  and 
talked  diamonds  to  her  friends,  and  Lady  Donald- 
son was  only  waiting  for  the  consummation  of  this 
marriage — her  heart's  desire — before  she  finally 
retired  from  the  world,  at  peace  with  it  and  with 
herself. 

'*  The  deed  of  gift  was  ready  for  signature  on 
the  wedding  day,  which  was  fixed  for  November 
7th,  and  Lady  Donaldson  took  up  her  abode  tern- 


THE    EDINBURGH    MYSTERY          143 

porarily  in  her  brother's  house  in  Charlotte 
Square. 

"  Mr.  Graham  gave  a  large  ball  on  October 
23rd.  Special  interest  is  attached  to  this  ball, 
from  the  fact  that  for  this  occasion  Lady  Donald- 
son insisted  that  David's  future  wife  should  wear 
the  magnificent  diamonds  which  were  soon  to  be- 
come hers. 

;'They  were,  it  seems,  superb,  and  became 
Miss  Crawford's  stately  beauty  to  perfection. 
The  ball  was  a  brilliant  success,  the  last  guest 
leaving  at  four  a.  m.  The  next  day  it  was  the 
universal  topic  of  conversation,  and  the  day  after 
that,  when  Edinburgh  unfolded  the  late  editions 
of  its  morning  papers,  it  learned  with  horror  and 
dismay  that  Lady  Donaldson  had  been  found 
murdered  in  her  room,  and  that  the  celebrated 
diamonds  had  been  stolen. 

"  Hardly  had  the  beautiful  little  city,  however, 
recovered  from  this  awful  shock,  than  its  news- 
papers had  another  thrilling  sensation  ready  for 
their  readers. 

"  Already  all  Scotch  and  English  papers  had 
mysteriously  hinted  at  *  startling  information ' 
obtained  by  the  Procurator  Fiscal,  and  at  an  *  im- 
pending sensational  arrest.' 

"Then  the  announcement  came,  and  everyone 
in  Edinburgh  read,  horror-struck  and  aghast,  that 
the  '  sensational  arrest '  was  none  other  than  that 
of  Miss  Edith  Crawford,  for  murder  and  robbery, 


144         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

both  so  daring  and  horrible  that  reason  refused  to 
believe  that  a  young  lady,  born  and  bred  in  the 
best  social  circle,  could  have  conceived,  much  less 
executed,  so  heinous  a  crime.  She  had  been  ar- 
rested in  London  at  the  Midland  Hotel,  and 
brought  to  Edinburgh,  where  she  was  judicially 
examined,  bail  being  refused." 


CHAPTER   XV 

A  TERRIBLE  PLIGHT 

"  LITTLE  more  than  a  fortnight  after  that,  Edith 
Crawford  was  duly  committed  to  stand  her  trial 
before  the  High  Court  of  Justiciary.  She  had 
pleaded  *  Not  Guilty '  at  the  pleading  diet,  and 
her  defence  was  entrusted  to  Sir  James  Fenwick, 
one  of  the  most  eminent  advocates  at  the  Criminal 
Bar. 

"  Strange  to  say,"  continued  the  man  in  the 
corner  after  a  while,  "  public  opinion  from  the  first 
went  dead  against  the  accused.  The  public  is 
absolutely  like  a  child,  perfectly  irresponsible  and 
wholly  illogical;  it  argued  that  since  Miss  Craw- 
ford had  been  ready  to  contract  a  marriage  with 
a  half-demented,  deformed  creature  for  the  sake 
of  his  £100,000  she  must  have  been  equally  ready 
to  murder  and  rob  an  old  lady  for  the  sake  of 
£50,000  worth  of  jewellery,  without  the  encum- 
brance of  so  undesirable  a  husband. 

"  Perhaps  the  great  sympathy  aroused  in  the 
popular  mind  for  David  Graham  had  much  to  do 
with  this  ill-feeling  against  the  accused.  David 
Graham  had,  by  this  cruel  and  dastardly  murder, 
lost  the  best — if  not  the  only — friend  he  possessed. 

145 


i46         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

He  had  also  lost  at  one  fell  swoop  the  large  for- 
tune which  Lady  Donaldson  had  been  about  to 
assign  to  him. 

"  The  deed  of  gift  had  never  been  signed,  and 
the  old  lady's  vast  wealth,  instead  of  enriching 
her  favourite  nephew,  was  distributed — since  she 
had  made  no  will — amongst  her  heirs-at-law. 
And  now  to  crown  this  long  chapter  of  sorrow 
David  Graham  saw  the  girl  he  loved  accused  of 
the  awful  crime  which  had  robbed  him  of  friend 
and  fortune. 

"  It  was,  therefore,  with  an  unmistakable  thrill 
of  righteous  satisfaction  that  Edinburgh  society 
saw  this  *  mercenary  girl '  in  so  terrible  a  plight. 

"  I  was  immensely  interested  in  the  case,  and 
journeyed  down  to  Edinburgh  in  order  to  get  a 
good  view  of  the  chief  actors  in  the  thrilling 
drama  which  was  about  to  be  unfolded  there. 

"  I  succeeded — I  generally  do — in  securing  one 
of  the  front  seats  among  the  audience,  and  was 
already  comfortably  installed  in  my  place  in  court 
when  through  the  trap  door  I  saw  the  head  of  the 
prisoner  emerge.  She  was  very  becomingly 
dressed  in  deep  black,  and,  led  by  two  policemen, 
she  took  her  place  in  the  dock.  Sir  James  Fen- 
wick  shook  hands  with  her  very  warmly,  and  I 
could  almost  hear  him  instilling  words  of  comfort 
into  her. 

'  The  trial  lasted  six  clear  days,  during  which 
time  more  than  forty  persons  were  examined  for 


A   TERRIBLE    PLIGHT  147 

the  prosecution,  and  as  many  for  the  defence. 
But  the  most  interesting  witnesses  were  certainly 
the  two  doctors,  the  maid  Tremlett,  Campbell,  the 
High  Street  jeweller,  and  David  Graham. 

"  There  was,  of  course,  a  great  deal  of  medical 
evidence  to  go  through.  Poor  Lady  Donaldson 
had  been  found  with  a  silk  scarf  tied  tightly  round 
her  neck,  her  face  showing  even  to  the  inexperi- 
enced eye  every  symptom  of  strangulation. 

"Then  Tremlett,  Lady  Donaldson's  confi- 
dential maid,  was  called.  Closely  examined  by 
Crown  Counsel,  she  gave  an  account  of  the  ball  at 
Charlotte  Square  on  the  23rd,  and  the  wearing  of 
the  jewels  by  Miss  Crawford  on  that  occasion. 

"  '  I  helped  Miss  Crawford  on  with  the  tiara 
over  her  hair,'  she  said;  '  and  my  lady  put  the  two 
necklaces  round  Miss  Crawford's  neck  herself. 
There  were  also  some  beautiful  brooches,  brace- 
lets, and  earrings.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  the  ball  was  over,  Miss  Crawford  brought 
the  jewels  back  to  my  lady's  room.  My  lady  had 
already  gone  to  bed,  and  I  had  put  out  the  electric 
light,  as  I  was  going,  too.  There  was  only  one 
candle  left  in  the  room,  close  to  the  bed. 

'  Miss  Crawford  took  all  the  jewels  off,  and 
asked  Lady  Donaldson  for  the  key  of  the  safe, 
so  that  she  might  put  them  away.  My  lady 
gave  her  the  key  and  said  to  me,  "  You  can  go 
to  bed,  Tremlett,  you  must  be  dead  tired."  I 
was  glad  to  go,  for  I  could  hardly  stand  up — I 


148         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

was  so  tired.  I  said,  "  Good  night !  "  to  my  lady 
and  also  to  Miss  Crawford,  who  was  busy  putting 
the  jewels  away.  As  I  was  going  out  of  the  room 
I  heard  Lady  Donaldson  saying:  "Have  you 
managed  it,  my  dear?"  Miss  Crawford  said: 
"  I  have  put  everything  away  very  nicely." 

"  In  answer  to  Sir  James  Fenwick,  Tremlett 
said  that  Lady  Donaldson  always  carried  the  key 
of  her  jewel  safe  on  a  ribbon  round  her  neck,  and 
had  done  so  the  whole  day  preceding  her  death. 

"  *  On  the  night  of  the  24th,'  she  continued, 
*  Lady  Donaldson  still  seemed  rather  tired,  and 
went  up  to  her  room  directly  after  dinner, 
while  the  family  were  still  sitting  in  the  dining- 
room.  She  made  me  dress  her  hair,  then  she 
slipped  on  her  dressing  gown  and  sat  in  the  arm- 
chair with  a  book.  She  told  me  that  she  then  felt 
strangely  uncomfortable  and  nervous,  and  could 
not  account  for  it. 

1  However,  she  did  not  want  me  to  sit  with 
her,  so  I  thought  that  the  best  thing  I  could  do 
was  to  tell  Mr.  David  Graham  that  her  ladyship 
did  not  seem  very  cheerful.  Her  ladyship  was 
so  fond  of  Mr.  David;  it  always  made  her  happy 
to  have  him  with  her.  I  then  went  to  my  room, 
and  at  half-past  eight  Mr.  David  called  me.  He 
said:  "Your  mistress  does  seem  a  little  restless 
to-night.  If  I  were  you  I  would  just  go  and  listen 
at  her  door  in  about  an  hour's  time,  and  if  she 
has  not  gone  to  bed  I  would  go  in  and  stay  with 


A   TERRIBLE    PLIGHT  149 

her  until  she  has."  At  about  ten  o'clock  I  did  as 
Mr.  David  suggested,  and  listened  at  her  lady- 
ship's door.  However,  all  was  quiet  in  the  room, 
and,  thinking  her  ladyship  had  gone  to  sleep,  I 
went  back  to  bed. 

"  '  The  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  when  I 
took  in  my  mistress's  cup  of  tea,  I  saw  her  lying 
on  the  floor,  her  poor  dear  face  all  purple  and 
distorted.  I  screamed,  and  the  other  servants 
came  rushing  along.  Then  Mr.  Graham  had  the 
door  locked  and  sent  for  the  doctor  and  the  police.' 

"  The  poor  woman  seemed  to  find  it  very  diffi- 
cult not  to  break  down.  She  was  closely  ques- 
tioned by  Sir  James  Fenwick,  but  had  nothing 
further  to  say.  She  had  last  seen  her  mistress 
alive  at  eight  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  24th. 

; '  And  when  you  listened  at  her  door  at  ten 
o'clock,'  asked  Sir  James,  *  did  you  try  to  open 
it?' 

*  I  did,  but  it  was  locked,'  she  replied. 

"  *  Did  Lady  Donaldson  usually  lock  her  bed- 
room at  night?' 
"  *  Nearly  always.' 

"And  in  the  morning  when  you  took  in  the 
tea?' 

'The  door  was  open.     I  walked  straight  in.' 

*  You  are  quite  sure  ? '  insisted  Sir  James. 

*  I  swear  it,'  solemnly  asserted  the  woman. 

"  After  that  we  were  informed  by  several  mem- 
bers of  Mr.  Graham's  establishment  that  Miss 


150         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Crawford  had  been  in  to  tea  at  Charlotte  Square 
in  the  afternoon  of  the  24th,  that  she  told  every- 
one she  was  going  to  London  by  the  night  mail, 
as  she  had  some  special  shopping  she  wished  to  do 
there.  It  appears  that  Mr.  Graham  and  David 
both  tried  to  persuade  her  to  stay  to  dinner,  and 
then  to  go  by  the  9.10  p.  m.  from  the  Caledonian 
Station.  Miss  Crawford  however  had  refused, 
saying  she  always  preferred  to  go  from  the  Wav- 
erley  Station.  It  was  nearer  to  her  own  rooms, 
and  she  still  had  a  good  deal  of  writing  to  do. 

"  In  spite  of  this,  two  witnesses  saw  the  accused 
in  Charlotte  Square  later  on  in  the  evening.  She 
was  carrying  a  bag  which  seemed  heavy,  and  was 
walking  towards  the  Caledonian  Railway  Sta- 
tion. 

"But  the  most  thrilling  moment  in  that  sensa- 
tional trial  was  reached  on  the  second  day,  when 
David  Graham,  looking  wretchedly  ill,  unkempt, 
and  haggard,  stepped  into  the  witness-box.  A 
murmur  of  sympathy  went  round  the  audience  at 
sight  of  him,  who  was  the  second,  perhaps,  most 
deeply  stricken  victim  of  the  Charlotte  Square 
tragedy. 

"  David  Graham,  in  answer  to  Crown  Counsel, 
gave  an  account  of  his  last  interview  with  Lady 
Donaldson. 

"  *  Tremlett  had  told  me  that  she  seemed 
anxious  and  upset,  and  I  went  to  have  a  chat  with 
her;  she  soon  cheered  up  and  .  .  ." 


A   TERRIBLE    PLIGHT  151 

"There  the  unfortunate  young  man  hesitated 
visibly,  but  after  a  while  resumed  with  an  obvious 
effort. 

" '  She  spoke  of  my  marriage,  and  of  the  gift 
she  was  about  to  bestow  upon  me.  She  said  the 
diamonds  would  be  for  my  wife,  and  after  that 
for  my  daughter,  if  I  had  one.  She  also  com- 
plained that  Mr.  Macfinlay  had  been  so  punctilious 
about  preparing  the  deed  of  gift,  and  that  it  was 
a  great  pity  the  £100,000  could  not  just  pass  from 
her  hands  to  mine  without  so  much  fuss. 

" '  I  stayed  talking  with  her  for  about  half  an 
hour;  then  I  left  her,  as  she  seemed  ready  to  go 
to  bed;  but  I  told  her  maid  to  listen  at  the  door 
in  about  an  hour's  time.' 

;'  There  was  deep  silence  in  the  court  for  a  few 
moments,  a  silence  which  to  me  seemed  almost 
electrical.  It  was  as  if,  some  time  before  it  was 
uttered,  the  next  question  put  by  Crown  Counsel 
to  the  witness  had  hovered  in  the  air. 

'  You  were  engaged  to  Miss  Edith  Crawford 
at  one  time,  were  you  not? ' 

"  One  felt,  rather  than  heard,  the  almost  in- 
audible *  Yes,'  which  escaped  from  David  Gra- 
ham's compressed  lips. 

'Under  what  circumstances  was  that  engage- 
ment broken  off  ? ' 

"  Sir  James  Fenwick  had  already  risen  in  pro- 
test, but  David  Graham  had  been  the  first  to 
speak. 


152         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  *  I  do  not  think  that  I  need  answer  that  ques- 
tion.' 

" '  I  will  put  it  in  a  different  form,  then,'  said 
Crown  Counsel  urbanely — '  one  to  which  my 
learned  friend  cannot  possibly  take  exception. 
Did  you  or  did  you  not  on  October  27th  receive  a 
letter  from  the  accused,  in  which  she  desired  to  be 
released  from  her  promise  of  marriage  to  you?' 

"  Again  David  Graham  would  have  refused  to 
answer,  and  he  certainly  gave  no  audible  reply 
to  the  learned  counsel's  question;  but  everyone  in 
the  audience  there  present — aye,  every  member 
of  the  jury  and  of  the  bar — read  upon  David  Gra- 
ham's pale  countenance  and  in  his  large,  sorrowful 
eyes  that  ominous  '  Yes ! '  which  had  failed  to 
reach  his  trembling  lips." 


CHAPTER   XVI 
"NON  PROVEN" 

"THERE  is  no  doubt,"  continued  the  man  in  the 
corner,  "  that  what  little  sympathy  the  young  girl's 
terrible  position  had  aroused  in  the  public  mind 
had  died  out  the  moment  that  David  Graham  left 
the  witness  box  on  the  second  day  of  the  trial. 
Whether  Edith  Crawford  was  guilty  of  murder  or 
not,  the  callous  way  in  which  she  had  accepted  a 
deformed  lover,  and  then  thrown  him  over,  had 
set  everyone's  mind  against  her. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Graham  himself  who  had  been  the 
first  to  put  the  Procurator  Fiscal  in  possession  of 
the  fact  that  the  accused  had  written  to  David 
from  London,  breaking  off  her  engagement.  This 
information  had,  no  doubt,  directed  the  attention 
of  the  Fiscal  to  Miss  Crawford,  and  the  police 
soon  brought  forward  the  evidence  which  had  led 
to  her  arrest. 

"We  had  a  final  sensation  on  the  third  day, 
when  Mr.  Campbell,  jeweller,  of  High  Street, 
gave  his  evidence.  He  said  that  on  October  25th 
a  lady  came  to  his  shop  and  offered  to  sell  him  a 
pair  of  diamond  earrings.  Trade  had  been  very 
bad,  and  he  had  refused  the  bargain,  although  the 

153 


154         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

lady  seemed  ready  to  part  with  the  earrings  for 
an  extraordinarily  low  sum,  considering  the  beauty 
of  the  stones. 

"  In  fact  it  was  because  of  this  evident  desire  on 
the  lady's  part  to  sell  at  any  cost  that  he  had 
looked  at  her  more  keenly  than  he  otherwise 
would  have  done.  He  was  now  ready  to  swear 
that  the  lady  that  offered  him  the  diamond  ear- 
rings was  the  prisoner  in  the  dock. 

"I  can  assure  you  that  as  we  all  listened  to 
this  apparently  damnatory  evidence,  you  might 
have  heard  a  pin  drop  amongst  the  audience  in 
that  crowded  court.  The  girl  alone,  there  in  the 
dock,  remained  calm  and  unmoved.  Remember 
that  for  two  days  we  had  heard  evidence  to  prove 
that  old  Dr.  Crawford  had  died  leaving  his 
daughter  penniless,  that  having  no  mother  she  had 
been  brought  up  by  a  maiden  aunt,  who  had 
trained  her  to  be  a  governess,  which  occupation 
she  had  followed  for  years,  and  that  certainly  she 
had  never  been  known  by  any  of  her  friends  to  be 
in  possession  of  solitaire  diamond  earrings. 

"The  prosecution  had  certainly  secured  an  ace 
of  trumps,  but  Sir  James  Fenwick,  who  during  the 
whole  of  that  day  had  seemed  to  take  little  inter- 
est in  the  proceedings,  here  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
I  knew  at  once  that  he  had  got  a  tit-bit  in  the  way 
of  a  *  point  *  up  his  sleeve.  Gaunt,  and  unusually 
tall,  and  with  his  beak-like  nose,  he  always  looks 
strangely  impressive  when  he  seriously  tackles  a 


"NON    PROVEN"  155 

witness.  He  did  it  this  time  with  a  vengeance, 
I  can  tell  you.  He  was  all  over  the  pompous  little 
jeweller  in  a  moment. 

" '  Had  Mr.  Campbell  made  a  special  entry  in 
his  book,  as  to  the  visit  of  the  lady  in  question?' 

"'No.' 

"  '  Had  he  any  special  means  of  ascertaining 
when  that  visit  did  actually  take  place?  ' 

"'No— but " 

"  '  What  record  had  he  of  the  visit?' 

"  Mr.  Campbell  had  none.  In  fact,  after  about 
twenty  minutes  of  cross-examination,  he  had  to 
admit  that  he  had  given  but  little  thought  to  the 
interview  with  the  lady  at  the  time,  and  certainly 
not  in  connection  with  the  murder  of  Lady  Don- 
aldson, until  he  had  read  in  the  papers  that  a 
young  lady  had  been  arrested. 

"  Then  he  and  his  clerk  talked  the  matter  over, 
it  appears,  and  together  they  had  certainly  recol- 
lected that  a  lady  had  brought  some  beautiful  ear- 
rings for  sale  on  a  day  which  must  have  been  the 
very  morning  after  the  murder.  If  Sir  James 
Fenwick's  object  was  to  discredit  this  special  wit- 
ness, he  certainly  gained  his  point. 

"  All  the  pomposity  went  out  of  Mr.  Campbell ; 
he  became  flurried,  then  excited,  then  he  lost  his 
temper.  After  that  he  was  allowed  to  leave  the 
court,  and  Sir  James  Fenwick  resumed  his  seat, 
and  waited  like  a  vulture  for  its  prey. 

"  It  presented  itself  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Camp- 


156         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

bell's  clerk,  who,  before  the  Procurator  Fiscal, 
had  corroborated  his  employer's  evidence  in  every 
respect.  In  Scotland  no  witness  in  any  one  case  is 
present  in  court  during  the  examination  of  another, 
and  Mr.  Macfarlane,  the  clerk,  was,  therefore, 
quite  unprepared  for  the  pitfalls  which  Sir  James 
Fenwick  had  prepared  for  him.  He  tumbled  into 
them,  head  foremost,  and  the  eminent  advocate 
turned  him  inside  out  like  a  glove. 

"Mr.  Macfarlane  did  not  lose  his  temper;  he 
was  of  too  humble  a  frame  of  mind  to  do  that;  but 
he  got  into  a  hopeless  quagmire  of  mixed  recollec- 
tions, and  he  too  left  the  witness-box  quite  unpre- 
pared to  swear  as  to  the  day  of  the  interview  with 
the  lady  with  the  diamond  earrings. 

"  I  dare  say,  mind  you,"  continued  the  man  in 
the  corner  wiith  a  chuckle,  "that  to  most  people 
present,  Sir  James  Fenwick's  cross-questioning 
seemed  completely  irrelevant.  Both  Mr.  Camp- 
bell and  his  clerk  were  quite  ready  to  swear  that 
they  had  had  an  interview  concerning  some  dia- 
mond earrings  with  a  lady,  of  whose  identity  with 
the  accused  they  were  perfectly  convinced,  and  to 
the  casual  observer  the  question  as  to  the  time  or 
even  the  day  when  that  interview  took  place  could 
make  but  little  difference  in  the  ultimate  issue. 

"  Now  I  took  in,  in  a  moment,  the  entire  drift 
of  Sir  James  Fenwick's  defence  of  Edith  Craw- 
ford. When  Mr.  Macfarlane  left  the  witness- 
box,  the  second  victim  of  the  eminent  advocate's 


"NON    PROVEN"  157 

caustic  tongue,  I  could  read  as  in  a  book  the  whole 
history  of  that  crime,  its  investigation  and  the  mis- 
takes made  by  the  police  first  and  the  public  pros- 
ecutor afterwards. 

"  Sir  James  Fenwick  knew  them,  too,  of  course, 
and  he  placed  a  finger  upon  each  one,  demolishing 
— like  a  child  who  blows  upon  a  house  of  cards — 
the  entire  scaffolding  erected  by  the  prosecution. 

"  Mr.  Campbell's  and  Mr.  Macfarlane's  iden- 
tification of  the  accused  with  the  lady  who,  on  some 
date — admitted  to  be  uncertain — had  tried  to  sell 
a  pair  of  diamond  earrings,  was  the  first  point. 
Sir  James  had  plenty  of  witnesses  to  prove  that 
on  the  25th,  the  day  after  the  murder,  the  accused 
was  in  London,  whilst,  the  day  before,  Mr.  Camp- 
bell's shop  had  been  closed  long  before  the  family 
circle  had  seen  the  last  of  Lady  Donaldson. 
Clearly  the  jeweller  and  his  clerk  must  have  seen 
some  other  lady,  whom  their  vivid  imagination 
had  pictured  as  being  identical  with  the  accused. 

"Then  came  the  great  question  of  time.  Mr. 
David  Graham  had  been  evidently  the  last  to  see 
Lady  Donaldson  alive.  He  had  spoken  to  her  as 
late  as  8.30  p.  m.  Sir  James  Fenwick  had  called 
two  porters  at  the  Caledonian  Railway  Station 
who  testified  to  Miss  Crawford  having  taken  her 
seat  in  a  first-class  carriage  of  the  9.10  train,  some 
minutes  before  it  started. 

" '  Was  it  conceivable,  therefore,'  argued  Sir 
James,  'that  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour  the  ac- 


158         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

cused — a  young  girl — could  have  found  her  way 
surreptitiously  into  the  house,  at  a  time  when  the 
entire  household  was  still  astir,  that  she  should 
have  strangled  Lady  Donaldson,  forced  open  the 
safe,  and  made  away  with  the  jewels!  A  man — 
an  experienced  burglar  might  have  done  it,  but  I 
contend  that  the  accused  is  physically  incapable  of 
accomplishing  such  a  feat. 

"  *  With  regard  to  the  broken  engagement,'  con- 
tinued the  eminent  counsel  with  a  smile,  *  it  may 
have  seemed  a  little  heartless,  certainly,  but  heart- 
lessness  is  no  crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  The 
accused  has  stated  in  her  declaration  that  at  the 
time  she  wrote  to  Mr.  David  Graham,  breaking 
off  her  engagement,  she  had  heard  nothing  of  the 
Edinburgh  tragedy. 

'  The  London  papers  had  reported  the  crime 
very  briefly.  The  accused  was  busy  shopping;  she 
knew  nothing  of  Mr.  David  Graham's  altered 
position.  In  no  case  was  the  breaking  off  of  the 
engagement  a  proof  that  the  accused  had  obtained 
possession  of  the  jewels  by  so  foul  a  deed.' 

"It  is,  of  course,  impossible  for  me,"  continued 
the  man  in  the  corner  apologetically,  "  to  give 
you  any  idea  of  the  eminent  advocate's  eloquence 
and  masterful  logic.  It  struck  everyone,  I  think, 
just  as  it  did  me,  that  he  chiefly  directed  his  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  there  was  absolutely  no  proof 
against  the  accused. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  result  of  that  remark- 


"NON    PROVEN"  159 

able  trial  was  a  verdict  of  '  Non  Proven.'  The 
jury  was  absent  forty  minutes,  and  it  appears  that 
in  the  mind  of  every  one  of  them  there  remained, 
in  spite  of  Sir  James'  arguments,  a  firmly  rooted 
conviction — call  it  instinct,  if  you  like — that  Edith 
Crawford  had  done  away  with  Lady  Donaldson 
in  order  to  become  possessed  of  those  jewels,  and 
that  in  spite  of  the  pompous  jeweller's  many  con- 
tradictions, she  had  offered  him  some  of  those 
diamonds  for  sale.  But  there  was  not  enough 
proof  to  convict,  and  she  was  given  the  benefit  of 
the  doubt. 

"  I  have  heard  English  people  argue  that  in 
England  she  would  have  been  hanged.  Person- 
ally I  doubt  that.  I  think  that  an  English  jury — 
not  having  the  judicial  loophole  of  '  Non  Proven  * 
would  have  been  bound  to  acquit  her.  What  do 
you  think?" 


CHAPTER   XVII 

UNDENIABLE   FACTS 

THERE  was  a  moment's  silence,  for  Polly  did  not 
reply  immediately,  and  he  went  on  making  impos- 
sible knots  in  his  bit  of  string.  Then  she  said 
quietly : 

"  I  think  that  I  agree  with  those  English  people 
who  say  that  an  English  jury  would  have  con- 
demned her.  ...  I  have  no  doubt  that  she 
was  guilty.  She  may  not  have  committed  that  aw- 
ful deed  herself.  Someone  in  the  Charlotte 
Square  house  may  have  been  her  accomplice  and 
killed  and  robbed  Lady  Donaldson  while  Edith 
Crawford  waited  outside  for  the  jewels.  David 
Graham  left  his  godmother  at  8.30  p.  m.  If  the 
accomplice  was  one  of  the  servants  in  the  house, 
he  or  she  would  have  had  plenty  of  time  for  any 
amount  of  villainy,  and  Edith  Crawford  could 
have  yet  caught  the  9.10  p.  m.  train  from  the 
Caledonian  Station." 

"Then  who,  in  your  opinion,"  he  asked  sar- 
castically, and  cocking  his  funny  birdlike  head  on 
one  side,  "  tried  to  sell  diamond  earrings  to  Mr. 
Campbell,  the  jeweller?" 

"Edith  Crawford,  of  course,"  she  retorted  tri- 

160 


UNDENIABLE   FACTS  161 

umphantly;  "he  and  his  clerk  both  recognised 
her." 

"When  did  she  try  to  sell  them  the  earrings?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  what  I  cannot  quite  make  out,  and 
there  to  my  mind  lies  the  only  mystery  in  this  case. 
On  the  25th  she  was  certainly  in  London,  and  it 
is  not  very  likely  that  she  would  go  back  to  Edin- 
burgh in  order  to  dispose  of  the  jewels  there, 
where  they  could  most  easily  be  traced." 

"  Not  very  likely,  certainly,"  he  assented  drily. 

"  And,"  added  the  young  girl,  "  on  the  day  be- 
fore she  left  for  London,  Lady  Donaldson  was 
alive." 

"  And  pray,"  he  said  suddenly,  as  with  comic 
complacency  he  surveyed  a  beautiful  knot  he  had 
just  twisted  up  between  his  long  fingers,  "  what 
has  that  fact  got  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  But  it  has  everything  to  do  with  it !  "  she  re- 
torted. 

"Ah,  there  you  go,"  he  sighed  with  comic 
emphasis.  "  My  teachings  don't  seem  to  have 
improved  your  powers  of  reasoning.  You  are  as 
bad  as  the  police.  Lady  Donaldson  has  been 
robbed  and  murdered,  and  you  immediately  argue 
that  she  was  robbed  and  murdered  by  the  same 
person." 

"  But "  argued  Polly. 

:<  There  is  no  but,"  he  said,  getting  more  and 
more  excited.  "  See  how  simple  it  is.  Edith 
Crawford  wears  the  diamonds  one  night,  then  she 


162         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

brings  them  back  to  Lady  Donaldson's  room. 
Remember  the  maid's  statement :  *  My  lady 
said:  "Have  you  put  them  back,  my  dear?" — 
a  simple  statement,  utterly  ignored  by  the  prose- 
cution. But  what  did  it  mean?  That  Lady  Don- 
aldson could  not  see  for  herself  whether  Edith 
Crawford  had  put  back  the  jewels  or  not,  since 
she  asked  the  question." 

"Then  you  argue " 

"I  never  argue,"  he  interrupted  excitedly;  "I 
state  undeniable  facts.  Edith  Crawford,  who 
wanted  to  steal  the  jewels,  took  them  then  and 
there,  when  she  had  the  opportunity.  Why  in  the 
world  should  she  have  waited?  Lady  Donaldson 
was  in  bed,  and  Tremlett,  the  maid,  had  gone. 

"The  next  day — namely,  the  25th — she  tried  to 
dispose  of  a  pair  of  earrings  to  Mr.  Campbell; 
she  fails,  and  decides  to  go  to  London,  where  she 
has  a  better  chance.  Sir  James  Fenwick  did  not 
think  it  desirable  to  bring  forward  witnesses  to 
prove  what  I  have  since  ascertained  is  a  fact, 
namely,  that  on  the  2yth  of  October,  three  days 
before  her  arrest,  Miss  Crawford  crossed  over  to 
Belgium,  and  came  back  to  London  the  next  day. 
In  Belgium,  no  doubt,  Lady  Donaldson's  dia- 
monds, taken  out  of  their  settings,  calmly  repose 
at  this  moment,  while  the  money  derived  from 
their  sale  is  safely  deposited  in  a  Belgian  bank." 

"  But  then,  who  murdered  Lady  Donaldson, 
and  why?"  gasped  Polly. 


UNDENIABLE   FACTS  163 

"Cannot  you  guess?"  he  queried  blandly. 
"Have  I  not  placed  the  case  clearly  enough  be- 
fore you?  To  me  it  seems  so  simple.  It  was  a 
daring,  brutal  murder,  remember.  Think  of  one 
who,  not  being  the  thief  himself,  would,  never- 
theless, have  the  strongest  of  all  motives  to  shield 
the  thief  from  the  consequences  of  her  own  mis- 
deed :  aye !  and  the  power  too — since  it  would 
be  absolutely  illogical,  nay,  impossible,  that  he 
should  be  an  accomplice." 

"Surely " 

"Think  of  a  curious  nature,  warped  morally, 
as  well  as  physically — do  you  know  how  those 
natures  feel?  A  thousand  times  more  strongly 
than  the  even,  straight  natures  in  everyday  life. 
Then  think  of  such  a  nature  brought  face  to  face 
with  this  awful  problem. 

"  Do  you  think  that  such  a  nature  would  hesi- 
tate a  moment  before  committing  a  crime  to  save 
the  loved  one  from  the  consequences  of  that  deed? 
Mind  you,  I  don't  assert  for  a  moment  that  David 
Graham  had  any  intention  of  murdering  Lady 
Donaldson.  Tremlett  tells  him  that  she  seems 
strangely  upset;  he  goes  to  her  room  and  finds  that 
she  has  discovered  that  she  has  been  robbed.  She 
naturally  suspects  Edith  Crawford,  recollects  the 
incidents  of  the  other  night,  and  probably  ex- 
presses her  feelings  to  David  Graham,  and 
threatens  immediate  prosecution,  scandal,  what 
you  will. 


1 64         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

"I  repeat  it  again,  I  dare  say  he  had  no  wish 
to  kill  her.  Probably  he  merely  threatened  to. 
A  medical  gentleman  who  spoke  of  sudden  heart 
failure  was  no  doubt  right.  Then  imagine  David 
Graham's  remorse,  his  horror  and  his  fears.  The 
empty  safe  probably  is  the  first  object  that  sug- 
gested to  him  the  grim  tableau  of  robbery  and 
murder,  which  he  arranges  in  order  to  insure  his 
own  safety. 

"But  remember  one  thing:  no  miscreant  was 
seen  to  enter  or  leave  the  house  surreptitiously; 
the  murderer  left  no  signs  of  entrance,  and  none 
of  exit.  An  armed  burglar  would  have  left  some 
trace — someone  would  have  heard  something. 
Then  who  locked  and  unlocked  Lady  Donaldson's 
door  that  night  while  she  herself  lay  dead? 

"  Someone  in  the  house,  I  tell  you — someone 
who  left  no  trace — someone  against  whom  there 
could  be  no  suspicion — someone  who  killed  with- 
out apparently  the  slightest  premeditation,  and 
without  the  slightest  motive.  Think  of  it — I 
know  I  am  right — and  then  tell  me  if  I  have  at  all 
enlisted  your  sympathies  in  the  author  of  the 
Edinburgh  Mystery." 

He  was  gone.  Polly  looked  again  at  the  photo 
of  David  Graham.  Did  a  crooked  mind  really 
dwell  in  that  crooked  body,  and  were  there  in  the 
world  such  crimes  that  were  great  enough  to  be 
deemed  sublime? 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE  THEFT  AT  THE  ENGLISH   PROVIDENT  BANK 

"  THAT  question  of  motive  is  a  very  difficult  and 
complicated  one  at  times,"  said  the  man  in  the 
corner,  leisurely  pulling  off  a  huge  pair  of  flaming 
dog-skin  gloves  from  his  meagre  fingers.  "  I 
have  known  experienced  criminal  investigators 
declare,  as  an  infallible  axiom,  that  to  find  the  per- 
son interested  in  the  committal  of  the  crime  is  to 
find  the  criminal. 

!<  Well,  that  may  be  so  in  most  cases,  but  my 
experience  has  proved  to  me  that  there  is  one 
factor  in  this  world  of  ours  which  is  the  main- 
spring of  human  actions,  and  that  factor  is  human 
passions.  For  good  or  evil  passions  rule  this  poor 
humanity  of  ours.  Remember,  there  are  the 
women!  French  detectives,  who  are  acknowl- 
edged masters  in  their  craft,  never  proceed  till 
after  they  have  discovered  the  feminine  element  in 
a  crime;  whether  in  theft,  murder,  or  fraud,  ac- 
cording to  their  theory,  there  is  always  a  woman. 

"  Perhaps  the  reason  why  the  Phillimore  Ter- 
race robbery  was  never  brought  home  to  its  per- 
petrators is  because  there  was  no  woman  in  any 
way  connected  with  it,  and  I  am  quite  sure,  on 

165 


1 66         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

the  other  hand,  that  the  reason  why  the  thief  at 
the  English  Provident  Bank  is  still  unpunished  is 
because  a  clever  woman  has  escaped  the  eyes  of 
our  police  force." 

He  had  spoken  at  great  length  and  very 
dictatorially.  Miss  Polly  Burton  did  not  venture 
to  contradict  him,  knowing  by  now  that  whenever 
he  was  irritable  he  was  invariably  ri^de,  and  she 
then  had  the  worst  of  it. 

"When  I  am  old,"  he  resumed,  "and  have 
nothing  more  to  do,  I  think  I  shall  take  pro- 
fessionally to  the  police  force;  they  have  much  to 
learn." 

Could  anything  be  more  ludicrous  than  the  self- 
satisfaction,  the  abnormal  conceit  of  this  remark, 
made  by  that  shrivelled  piece  of  mankind,  in  a 
nervous,  hesitating  tone  of  voice?  Polly  made 
no  comment,  but  drew  from  her  pocket  a  beautiful 
piece  of  string,  and  knowing  his  custom  of  knot- 
ting such  an  article  while  unravelling  his  mysteries, 
she  handed  it  across  the  table  to  him.  She  posi- 
tively thought  that  he  blushed. 

"  As  an  adjunct  to  thought,"  she  said,  moved 
by  a  conciliatory  spirit. 

He  looked  at  the  invaluable  toy  which  the  young 
girl  had  tantalisingly  placed  close  to  his  hand: 
then  he  forced  himself  to  look  all  round  the  coffee 
room:  at  Polly,  at  the  waitresses,  at  the  piles  of 
pallid  buns  upon  the  counter.  But,  involuntarily, 
his  mild  blue  eyes  wandered  back  lovingly  to  the 


THEFT  AT   PROVIDENT  BANK       167 

long  piece  of  string,  on  which  his  playful  imagina- 
tion no  doubt  already  saw  a  series  of  knots  which 
would  be  equally  tantalising  to  tie  and  to  untie. 

"  Tell  me  about  the  theft  at  the  English  Provi- 
dent Bank,"  suggested  Polly  condescendingly. 

He  looked  at  her,  as  if  she  had  proposed  some 
mysterious  complicity  in  an  unheard-of  crime. 
Finally  his  lean  fingers  sought  the  end  of  the 
piece  of  string,  and  drew  it  towards  him.  His 
face  brightened  up  in  a  moment. 

"  There  was  an  element  of  tragedy  in  that  par- 
ticular robbery,"  he  began,  after  a  few  moments  of 
beatified  knotting,  "  altogether  different  to  that 
connected  with  most  crimes;  a  tragedy  which,  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  would  seal  my  lips  for  ever, 
and  forbid  them  to  utter  a  word,  which  might  lead 
the  police  on  the  right  track." 

'  Your  lips,"  suggested  Polly  sarcastically, 
"  are,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  usually  sealed  before  our 
long-suffering,  incompetent  police  and " 

"And  you  should  be  the  last  to  grumble  at 
this,"  he  quietly  interrupted,  "  for  you  have  spent 
some  very  pleasant  half  hours  already,  listening 
to  what  you  have  termed  my  '  cock-and-bull ' 
stories.  You  know  the  English  Provident  Bank, 
of  course,  in  Oxford  Street;  there  were  plenty  of 
sketches  of  it  at  the  time  in  the  illustrated  papers. 
Here  is  a  photo  of  the  outside.  I  took  it  myself 
some  time  ago,  and  only  wished  I  had  been  cheeky 
or  lucky  enough  to  get  a  snapshot  of  the  interior. 


168         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

But  you  see  that  the  office  has  a  separate  entrance 
from  the  rest  of  the  house,  which  was,  and  still  is, 
as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  inhabited  by  the  manager 
and  his  family. 

"  Mr.  Ireland  was  the  manager  then ;  it  was  less! 
than  six  months  ago.  He  lived  over  the  bank, 
with  his  wife  and  family,  consisting  of  a  son,  who 
was  clerk  in  the  business,  and  two  or  three  younger 
children.  The  house  is  really  smaller  than  it 
looks  on  this  photo,  for  it  has  no  depth,  and  only 
one  set  of  rooms  on  each  floor  looking  out  into  the 
street,  the  back  of  the  house  being  nothing  but  the 
staircase.  Mr.  Ireland  and  his  family,  therefore, 
occupied  the  whole  of  it. 

"As  for  the  business  premises,  they  were,  and, 
in  fact,  are,  of  the  usual  pattern;  an  office  with 
its  rows  of  desks,  clerks,  and  cashiers,  and  beyond, 
through  a  glass  door,  the  manager's  private 
room,  with  the  ponderous  safe,  and  desk,  and 
so  on. 

"  The  private  room  has  a  door  into  the  hall  of 
the  house,  so  that  the  manager  is  not  obliged  to 
go  out  into  the  street  in  order  to  go  to  business. 
There  are  no  living  rooms  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  the  house  has  no  basement. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  put  all  these  architectural  de- 
tails before  you,  though  they  may  sound  rather 
dry  and  uninteresting,  but  they  are  really  necessary 
in  order  to  make  my  argument  clear. 

"At  night,  of  course,  the  bank  premises  are 


THEFT  AT   PROVIDENT  BANK       169 

barred  and  bolted  against  the  street,  and  as  an 
additional  precaution  there  is  always  a  night 
watchman  in  the  office.  As  I  mentioned  before, 
there  is  only  a  glass  door  between  the  office  and 
the  manager's  private  room.  This,  of  course,  ac- 
counted for  the  fact  that  the  night  watchman 
heard  all  that  he  did  hear,  on  that  memorable 
night,  and  so  helped  further  to  entangle  the  thread 
of  that  impenetrable  mystery. 

"  Mr.  Ireland  as  a  rule  went  into  his  office  every 
morning  a  little  before  ten  o'clock,  but  on  that 
particular  morning,  for  some  reason  which  he 
never  could  or  would  explain,  he  went  down  be- 
fore having  his  breakfast  at  about  nine  o'clock. 
Mrs.  Ireland  stated  subsequently  that,  not  hearing 
him  return,  she  sent  the  servant  down  to  tell  the 
master  that  breakfast  was  getting  cold.  The 
girl's  shrieks  were  the  first  intimation  that  some- 
thing alarming  had  occurred. 

"  Mrs.  Ireland  hastened  downstairs.  On  reach- 
ing the  hall  she  found  the  door  of  her  husband's 
room  open,  and  it  was  from  there  that  the  girl's 
shrieks  proceeded. 

"  '  The  master,  mum — the  poor  master — he  is 
dead,  mum — I  am  sure  he  is  dead ! ' — accom- 
panied by  vigorous  thumps  against  the  glass  parti- 
tion, and  not  very  measured  language  on  the  part 
of  the  watchman  from  the  outer  office,  such  as — - 
*  Why  don't  you  open  the  door  instead  of  making 
that  row  ? ' 


170        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Mrs.  Ireland  is  not  the  sort  of  woman  who, 
under  any  circumstances,  would  lose  her  presence 
of  mind.  I  think  she  proved  that  throughout  the 
many  trying  circumstances  connected  with  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  case.  She  gave  only  one  glance 
at  the  room  and  realised  the  situation.  On  the 
armchair,  with  head  thrown  back  and  eyes  closed, 
lay  Mr.  Ireland,  apparently  in  a  dead  faint;  some 
terrible  shock  must  have  very  suddenly  shattered 
his  nervous  system,  and  rendered  him  prostrate 
for  the  moment.  What  that  shock  had  been  it 
was  pretty  easy  to  guess. 

"  The  door  of  the  safe  was  wide  open,  and  Mr. 
Ireland  had  evidently  tottered  and  fainted  before 
some  awful  fact  which  the  open  safe  had  revealed 
to  him;  he  had  caught  himself  against  a  chair 
which  lay  on  the  floor,  and  then  finally  sunk,  un- 
conscious, into  the  armchair. 

"All  this,  which  takes  some  time  to  describe," 
continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  "  took,  remem- 
ber, only  a  second  to  pass  like  a  flash  through  Mrs. 
Ireland's  mind;  she  quickly  turned  the  key  of  the 
glass  door,  which  was  on  the  inside,  and  with  the 
help  of  James  Fairbairn,  the  watchman,  she 
carried  her  husband  upstairs  to  his  room,  and  im- 
mediately sent  both  for  the  police  and  for  a 
doctor. 

"  As  Mrs.  Ireland  had  anticipated,  her  husband 
had  received  a  severe  mental  shock  which  had 
completely  prostrated  him.  The  doctor  pre- 


THEFT  AT   PROVIDENT  BANK       171 

scribed  absolute  quiet,  and  forbade  all  worrying 
questions  for  the  present.  The  patient  was  not  a 
young  man;  the  shock  had  been  very  severe — it 
was  a  case,  a  very  slight  one,  of  cerebral  conges- 
tion— and  Mr.  Ireland's  reason,  if  not  his  life, 
might  be  gravely  jeopardised  by  any  attempt  to 
recall  before  his  enfeebled  mind  the  circumstances 
which  had  preceded  his  collapse. 

"  The  police  therefore  could  proceed  but  slowly 
in  their  investigations.  The  detective  who  had 
charge  of  the  case  was  necessarily  handicapped, 
whilst  one  of  the  chief  actors  concerned  in  the 
drama  was  unable  to  help  him  in  his  work. 

"  To  begin  with,  the  robber  or  robbers  had 
obviously  not  found  their  way  into  the  manager's 
inner  room  through  the  bank  premises.  James 
Fairbairn  had  been  on  the  watch  all  night,  with 
the  electric  light  full  on,  and  obviously  no  one 
could  have  crossed  the  outer  office  or  forced  the 
heavily  barred  doors  without  his  knowledge. 

"  There  remained  the  other  access  to  the  room, 
that  is,  the  one  through  the  hall  of  the  house. 
The  hall  door,  it  appears,  was  always  barred  and 
bolted  by  Mr.  Ireland  himself  when  he  came 
home,  whether  from  the  theatre  or  his  club.  It 
was  a  duty  he  never  allowed  anyone  to  perform 
but  himself.  During  his  annual  holiday,  with  his 
wife  and  family,  his  son,  who  usually  had  the 
sub-manager  to  stay  with  him  on  those  occasions, 
did  the  bolting  and  barring — but  with  the  distinct 


172        THE   MAN   IN   THE  CORNER 

understanding  that  this  should  be  done  by  ten 
o'clock  at  night. 

"As  I  have  already  explained  to  you,  there  is 
only  a  glass  partition  between  the  general  office 
and  the  manager's  private  room,  and,  according 
to  James  Fairbairn's  account,  this  was  naturally  al- 
ways left  wide  open  so  that  he,  during  his  night 
watch,  would  of  necessity  hear  the  faintest  sound. 
As  a  rule  there  was  no  light  left  in  the  manager's 
room,  and  the  other  door — that  leading  into  the 
hall — was  bolted  from  the  inside  by  James  Fain- 
bairn  the  moment  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  the 
premises  were  safe,  and  he  had  begun  his  night- 
watch.  An  electric  bell  in  both  the  offices  com- 
municated with  Mr.  Ireland's  bedroom  and  that 
of  his  son,  Mr.  Robert  Ireland,  and  there  was  a 
telephone  installed  to  the  nearest  district  messen- 
ger's office,  with  an  understood  signal  which  meant 
4  Police.' 

"At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  it  was  the 
night  watchman's  duty,  as  soon  as  the  first  cashier 
had  arrived,  to  dust  and  tidy  the  manager's  room, 
and  to  undo  the  bolts;  after  that  he  was  free  to  go 
home  to  his  breakfast  and  rest. 

'  You  will  see,  of  course,  that  James  Fairbairn's 
position  in  the  English  Provident  Bank  is  one  of 
great  responsibility  and  trust;  but  then  in  every 
bank  and  business  house  there  are  men  who  hold 
similar  positions.  They  are  always  men  of  well- 
known  and  tried  characters,  often  old  soldiers  with 


THEFT  AT   PROVIDENT  BANK       173 

good  conduct  records  behind  them.  James  Fair- 
bairn  is  a  fine,  powerful  Scotchman;  he  had  been 
night  watchman  to  the  English  Provident  Bank 
for  fifteen  years,  and  was  then  not  more  than 
forty-three  or  forty-four  years  old.  He  is  an  ex- 
guardsman,  and  stands  six  feet  three  inches  in  his 
socks. 

"  It  was  his  evidence,  of  course,  which  was  of 
such  paramount  importance,  and  which  somehow 
or  other  managed,  in  spite  of  the  utmost  care 
exercised  by  the  police,  to  become  public  property, 
and  to  cause  the  wildest  excitement  in  banking 
and  business  circles. 

"  James  Fairbairn  stated  that  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening  of  March  25th,  having  bolted  and 
barred  all  the  shutters  and  the  door  of  the  bank 
premises,  he  was  about  to  lock  the  manager's  door 
as  usual,  when  Mr.  Ireland  called  to  him  from  the 
floor  above,  telling  him  to  leave  that  door  open,  as 
he  might  want  to  go  into  the  office  again  for  a 
minute  when  he  came  home  at  eleven  o'clock. 
James  Fairbairn  asked  if  he  should  leave  the  light 
on,  but  Mr.  Ireland  said :  *  No,  turn  it  out.  I 
can  switch  it  on  if  I  want  it.' 

"  The  night  watchman  at  the  English  Provident 
Bank  has  permission  to  smoke ;  he  also  is  allowed  a 
nice  fire,  and  a  tray  consisting  of  a  plate  of  sub- 
stantial sandwiches  and  one  glass  of  ale,  which  he 
can  take  when  he  likes.  James  Fairbairn  settled 
himself  in  front  of  the  fire,  lit  his  pipe,  took  out 


174         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

his  newspaper,  and  began  to  read.  He  thought 
he  had  heard  the  street  door  open  and  shut  at 
about  a  quarter  to  ten;  he  supposed  that  it  was 
Mr.  Ireland  going  out  to  his  club,  but  at  ten 
minutes  to  ten  o'clock  the  watchman  heard  the 
door  of  the  manager's  room  open,  and  someone 
enter,  immediately  closing  the  glass  partition  door 
and  turning  the  key. 

"  He  naturally  concluded  it  was  Mr.  Ireland 
himself. 

"  From  where  he  sat  he  could  not  see  into  the 
room,  but  he  noticed  that  the  electric  light  had  not 
been  switched  on,  and  that  the  manager  seemingly 
had  no  light  but  an  occasional  match. 

"  *  For  the  minute,'  continued  James  Fairbairn, 

*  a  thought  did  just  cross  my  mind  that  something 
might  perhaps  be  wrong,  and  I  put  my  newspaper 
aside  and  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  to- 
wards the  glass  partition.     The  manager's  room 
was  still  quite  dark,  and  I  could  not  clearly  see 
into  it,  but  the  door  into  the  hall  was  open,  and 
there  was,  of  course,  a  light  through  there.     I 
had  got  quite  close  to  the  partition,  when  I  saw 
Mrs.  Ireland  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  heard 
her  saying  in  a  very  astonished  tone  of  voice: 

*  Why,  Lewis,  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  your 
club  ages  ago.    What  in  the  world  are  you  doing 
here  in  the  dark?' 

*  Lewis  is  Mr.  Ireland's  Christian  name,'  was 
James  Fairbairn's  further  statement.     *I  did  not 


THEFT  AT   PROVIDENT  BANK       175 

hear  the  manager's  reply,  but  quite  satisfied  now 
that  nothing  was  wrong,  I  went  back  to  my  pipe 
and  my  newspaper.  Almost  directly  afterwards  I 
heard  the  manager  leave  his  room,  cross  the  hall 
and  go  out  by  the  street  door.  It  was  only  after 
he  had  gone  that  I  recollected  that  he  must  have 
forgotten  to  unlock  the  glass  partition  and  that  I 
could  not  therefore  bolt  the  door  into  the  hall  the 
same  as  usual,  and  I  suppose  that  is  how  those 
confounded  thieves  got  the  better  of  me.' ' 


CHAPTER   XIX 

CONFLICTING  EVIDENCE 

"  BY  the  time  the  public  had  been  able  to  think 
over  James  Fairbairn's  evidence,  a  certain  dis- 
quietude and  unrest  had  begun  to  make  itself  felt 
both  in  the  bank  itself  and  among  those  of  our 
detective  force  who  had  charge  of  the  case.  The 
newspapers  spoke  of  the  matter  with  very  obvious 
caution,  and  warned  all  their  readers  to  await  the 
further  development  of  this  sad  case. 

"  While  the  manager  of  the  English  Provident 
Bank  lay  in  such  a  precarious  condition  of  health, 
it  was  impossible  to  arrive  at  any  definite  knowl- 
edge as  to  what  the  thief  had  actually  made  away 
with.  The  chief  cashier,  however,  estimated  the 
loss  at  about  £5000  in  gold  and  notes  of  the  bank 
money — that  was,  of  course,  on  the  assumption 
that  Mr.  Ireland  had  no  private  money  or  valu- 
ables of  his  own  in  the  safe." 

"  Mind  you,  at  this  point  public  sympathy  was 
much  stirred  in  favour  of  the  poor  man  who  lay 
ill,  perhaps  dying,  and  yet  whom,  strangely 
enough,  suspicion  had  already  slightly  touched 
with  its  poisoned  wing. 

"  Suspicion  is  a  strong  word,  perhaps,  to  use 
at  this  point  in  the  story.  No  one  suspected  any- 

176 


CONFLICTING   EVIDENCE  177 

body  at  present.  James  Falrbairn  had  told  his 
story,  and  had  vowed  that  some  thief  with  false 
keys  must  have  sneaked  through  the  house  into  the 
inner  office. 

"  Public  excitement,  you  will  remember,  lost 
nothing  by  waiting.  Hardly  had  we  all  had  time 
to  wonder  over  the  night  watchman's  singular  evi- 
dence, and,  pending  further  and  fuller  details,  to 
check  our  growing  sympathy  for  the  man  who 
was  ill,  than  the  sensational  side  of  this  mysteri- 
ous case  culminated  in  one  extraordinary,  abso- 
lutely unexpected  fact.  Mrs.  Ireland,  after  a 
twenty-four  hours'  untiring  watch  beside  her  hus- 
band's sick  bed,  had  at  last  been  approached  by 
the  detective,  and  been  asked  to  reply  to  a  few 
simple  questions,  and  thus  help  to  throw  some 
light  on  the  mystery  which  had  caused  Mr.  Ire- 
land's illness  and  her  own  consequent  anxiety. 

"  She  professed  herself  quite  ready  to  reply  to 
any  questions  put  to  her,  and  she  literally  as- 
tounded both  inspector  and  detective  when  she 
firmly  and  emphatically  declared  that  James  Fair- 
bairn  must  have  been  dreaming  or  asleep  when  he 
thought  he  saw  her  in  the  doorway  at  ten  o'clock 
that  night,  and  fancied  he  heard  her  voice. 

"  She  may  or  may  not  have  been  down  in  the 
hall  at  that  particular  hour,  for  she  usually  ran 
down  herself  to  see  if  the  last  post  had  brought 
any  letters,  but  most  certainly  she  had  neither  seen 
nor  spoken  to  Mr.  Ireland  at  that  hour,  for  Mr. 


178         THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

Ireland  had  gone  out  an  hour  before,  she  herself 
having  seen  him  to  the  front  door.  Never  for  a 
moment  did  she  swerve  from  this  extraordinary 
statement.  She  spoke  to  James  Fairbairn  in  the 
presence  of  the  detective,  and  told  him  he  must 
absolutely  have  been  mistaken,  that  she  had  not 
seen  Mr.  Ireland,  and  that  she  had  not  spoken  to 
him. 

"  One  other  person  was  questioned  by  the  police, 
and  that  was  Mr.  Robert  Ireland,  the  manager's 
eldest  son.  It  was  presumed  that  he  would  know 
something  of  his  father's  affairs;  the  idea  having 
now  taken  firm  hold  of  the  detective's  mind  that 
perhaps  grave  financial  difficulties  had  tempted  the 
unfortunate  manager  to  appropriate  some  of  the 
firm's  money. 

"  Mr.  Robert  Ireland,  however,  could  not  say 
very  much.  His  father  did  not  confide  in  him  to 
the  extent  of  telling  him  all  his  private  affairs,  but 
money  never  seemed  scarce  at  home  certainly,  and 
Mr.  Ireland  had,  to  his  son's  knowledge,  not  a 
single  extravagant  habit.  He  himself  had  been 
dining  out  with  a  friend  on  that  memorable  even- 
ing, and  had  gone  on  with  him  to  the  Oxford 
Music  Hall.  He  met  his  father  on  the  doorstep 
of  the  bank  at  about  1 1.30  p.  m.  and  they  went  in 
together.  There  certainly  was  nothing  remark- 
able about  Mr.  Ireland  then,  his  son  averred;  he 
appeared  in  no  way  excited,  and  bade  his  son 
good-night  quite  cheerfully. 


CONFLICTING    EVIDENCE  179 

'*  There  was  the  extraordinary,  the  remarkable 
hitch,"  continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  waxing 
more  and  more  excited  every  moment.  "  The  pub- 
lic— who  is  at  times  very  dense — saw  it  clearly 
nevertheless:  of  course,  everyone  at  once  jumped 
to  the  natural  conclusion  that  Mrs.  Ireland  was 
telling  a  lie — a  noble  lie,  a  self-sacrificing  lie,  a 
lie  endowed  with  all  the  virtues  if  you  like,  but 
still  a  lie. 

"  She  was  trying  to  save  her  husband,  and  was 
going  the  wrong  way  to  work.  James  Fairbairnr 
after  all,  could  not  have  dreamt  quite  all  that  he 
declared  he  had  seen  and  heard.  No  one  sus- 
pected James  Fairbairn;  there  was  no  occasion  to 
do  that;  to  begin  with,  he  was  a  great  heavy 
Scotchman  with  obviously  no  powers  of  invention, 
such  as  Mrs.  Ireland's  strange  assertion  credited 
him  with;  moreover,  the  theft  of  the  bank-notes 
could  not  have  been  of  the  slightest  use  to  him. 

"But,  remember,  there  was  the  hitch;  without 
it  the  public  mind  would  already  have  condemned 
the  sick  man  upstairs,  without  hope  of  rehabilita- 
tion. This  fact  struck  everyone. 

"  Granting  that  Mr.  Ireland  had  gone  into  his 
office  at  ten  minutes  to  ten  o'clock  at  night  for 
the  purpose  of  extracting  £5000  worth  of  notes 
and  gold  from  the  bank  safe,  whilst  giving  the 
theft  the  appearance  of  a  night  burglary;  grant- 
ing that  he  was  disturbed  in  his  nefarious  project 
by  his  wife,  who,  failing  to  persuade  him  to  make 


i8o         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

restitution,  took  his  side  boldly,  and  very  clumsily 
attempted  to  rescue  him  out  of  his  difficult  position 
— why  should  he,  at  nine  o'clock  the  following 
morning,  fall  in  a  dead  faint  and  get  cerebral 
congestion  at  sight  of  a  defalcation  he  knew  had 
occurred?  One  might  simulate  a  fainting  fit,  but 
no  one  can  assume  a  high  temperature  and  a  con- 
gestion, which  the  most  ordinary  practitioner  who 
happened  to  be  called  in  would  soon  see  were  non- 
existent. 

"  Mr.  Ireland,  according  to  James  Fairbairn's 
evidence,  must  have  gone  out  soon  after  the  theft, 
come  in  again  with  his  son  an  hour  and  a  half 
later,  talked  to  him,  gone  quietly  to  bed,  and 
waited  for  nine  hours  before  he  fell  ill  at  sight  of 
his  own  crime.  It  was  not  logical,  you  will  admit. 
Unfortunately,  the  poor  man  himself  was  unable 
to  give  any  explanation  of  the  night's  tragic  ad- 
ventures. 

"He  was  still  very  weak,  and  though  under 
strong  suspicion,  he  was  left,  by  the  doctor's  or- 
ders, in  absolute  ignorance  of  the  heavy  charges 
which  were  gradually  accumulating  against  him. 
He  had  made  many  anxious  inquiries  from  all 
those  who  had  access  to  his  bedside  as  to  the  result 
of  the  investigation,  and  the  probable  speedy  cap- 
ture of  the  burglars,  but  everyone  had  strict  orders 
to  inform  him  merely  that  the  police  so  far  had  no 
clue  of  any  kind. 

"You  will  admit,  as  everyone  did,  that  there 


CONFLICTING   EVIDENCE  181 

was  something  very  pathetic  about  the  unfortu- 
nate man's  position,  so  helpless  to  defend  himself, 
if  defence  there  was,  against  so  much  overwhelm- 
ing evidence.  That  is  why  I  think  public  sym- 
pathy remained  with  him.  Still,  it  was  terrible 
to  think  of  his  wife  presumably  knowing  him  to 
be  guilty,  and  anxiously  waiting  whilst  dreading 
the  moment  when,  restored  to  health,  he  would 
have  to  face  the  doubts,  the  suspicions,  probably 
the  open  accusations,  which  were  fast  rising  up 
around  him." 


CHAPTER   XX 

AN  ALIBI 

11  IT  was  close  on  six  weeks  before  the  doctor  at 
last  allowed  his  patient  to  attend  to  the  grave  busi- 
ness which  had  prostrated  him  for  so  long. 

"  In  the  meantime,  among  the  many  people  who 
directly  or  indirectly  were  made  to  suffer  in  this 
mysterious  affair,  no  one,  I  think,  was  more  pitied, 
and  more  genuinely  sympathised  with,  than  Robert 
Ireland,  the  manager's  eldest  son. 

"You  remember  that  he  had  been  clerk  in  the, 
bank?  Well,  naturally,  the  moment  suspicion  be- 
gan to  fasten  on  his  father  his  position  in  the 
business  became  untenable.  I  think  everyone  was 
very  kind  to  him.  Mr.  Sutherland  French,  who 
was  made  acting  manager  '  during  Mr.  Lewis  Ire- 
land's regrettable  absence,'  did  everything  in  his 
power  to  show  his  goodwill  and  sympathy  to  the 
young  man,  but  I  don't  think  that  he  or  anyone 
else  was  much  astonished  when,  after  Mrs.  Ire- 
land's extraordinary  attitude  in  the  case  had  be- 
come public  property,  he  quietly  intimated  to  the 
acting  manager  that  he  had  determined  to  sever 
his  connection  with  the  bank. 

"  The  best  of  recommendations  was,  of  course, 
placed  at  his  disposal,  and  it  was  finally  under- 

182 


AN  ALIBI  183 

stood  that,  as  soon  as  his  father  was  completely 
restored  to  health  and  would  no  longer  require  his 
presence  in  London,  he  would  try  to  obtain  em- 
ployment somewhere  abroad.  He  spoke  of  the 
new  volunteer  corps  organised  for  the  military 
policing  of  the  new  colonies,  and,  truth  to  tell,  no 
one  could  blame  him  that  he  should  wish  to  leave 
far  behind  him  all  London  banking  connections. 
The  son's  attitude  certainly  did  not  tend  to 
ameliorate  the  father's  position.  It  was  pretty 
evident  that  his  own  family  had  ceased  to  hope  in 
the  poor  manager's  innocence. 

"  And  yet  he  was  absolutely  innocent.  You 
must  remember  how  that  fact  was  clearly  demon- 
strated as  soon  as  the  poor  man  was  able  to  say  a 
word  for  himself.  And  he  said  it  to  some  pur- 
pose, too. 

"  Mr.  Ireland  was,  and  is,  very  fond  of  music. 
On  the  evening  in  question,  while  sitting  in  his 
club,  he  saw  in  one  of  the  daily  papers  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  peculiarly  attractive  programme 
at  the  Queen's  Hall  concert.  He  was  not  dressed, 
but  nevertheless  felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  hear 
one  or  two  of  these  attractive  musical  items,  and 
he  strolled  down  to  the  Hall.  Now,  this  sort  of 
alibi  is  usually  very  difficult  to  prove,  but  Dame 
Fortune,  oddly  enough,  favoured  Mr.  Ireland  on 
this  occasion,  probably  to  compensate  him  for  the 
hard  knocks  she  had  been  dealing  him  pretty 
freely  of  late. 


1 84         THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

"  It  appears  that  there  was  some  difficulty  about 
his  seat,  which  was  sold  to  him  at  the  box  office, 
and  which  he,  nevertheless,  found  wrongfully  oc- 
cupied by  a  determined  lady,  who  refused  to  move. 
The  management  had  to  be  appealed  to;  the  at- 
tendants also  remembered  not  only  the  incident, 
but  also  the  face  and  appearance  of  the  gentleman 
who  was  the  innocent  cause  of  the  altercation. 

"  As  soon  as  Mr.  Ireland  could  speak  for  him- 
self he  mentioned  the  incident  and  the  persons 
who  had  been  witness  to  it.  He  was  identified  by 
them,  to  the  amazement,  it  must  be  confessed,  of 
police  and  public  alike,  who  had  comfortably  de- 
cided that  no  one  could  be  guilty  save  the  man- 
ager of  the  Provident  Bank  himself.  Moreover, 
Mr.  Ireland  was  a  fairly  wealthy  man,  with  a 
good  balance  at  the  Union  Bank,  and  plenty  of 
private  means,  the  result  of  years  of  provident 
living. 

"  He  had  but  to  prove  that  if  he  really  had 
been  in  need  of  an  immediate  £5000 — which  was 
all  the  amount  extracted  from  the  bank  safe  that 
night — he  had  plenty  of  securities  on  which  he 
could,  at  an  hour's  notice,  have  raised  twice  that 
sum.  His  life  insurances  had  been  fully  paid  up; 
he  had  not  a  debt  which  a  £5  note  could  not  easily 
have  covered. 

"  On  the  fatal  night  he  certainly  did  remember 
asking  the  watchman  not  to  bolt  the  door  to  his 
office,  as  he  thought  he  might  have  one  or  two  let- 


AN  ALIBI  185 

ters  to  write  when  he  came  home,  but  later  on  he 
had  forgotten  all  about  this.  After  the  concert 
he  met  his  son  in  Oxford  Street,  just  outside  the 
house,  and  thought  no  more  about  the  office,  the 
door  of  which  was  shut,  and  presented  no  unusual 
appearance. 

"  Mr.  Ireland  absolutely  denied  having  been  in 
his  office  at  the  hour  when  James  Fairbairn  posi- 
tively asserted  he  heard  Mrs.  Ireland  say  in  an 
astonished  tone  of  voice:  'Why,  Lewis,  what  in 
the  world  are  you  doing  here?  '  It  became  pretty 
clear,  therefore,  that  James  Fairbairn's  view  of  the 
manager's  wife  had  been  a  mere  vision. 

"  Mr.  Ireland  gave  up  his  position  as  manager 
of  the  English  Provident:  both  he  and  his  wife 
felt  no  doubt  that  on  the  whole,  perhaps,  there 
had  been  too  much  talk,  too  much  scandal  con- 
nected with  their  name,  to  be  altogether  advan- 
tageous to  the  bank.  Moreover,  Mr.  Ireland's 
health  was  not  so  good  as  it  had  been.  He  has 
a  pretty  house  now  at  Sittingbourne,  and  amuses 
himself  during  his  leisure  hours  with  amateur 
horticulture,  and  I,  who  alone  in  London  besides 
the  persons  directly  connected  with  this  mysteri- 
ous affair,  know  the  true  solution  of  the  enigma, 
often  wonder  how  much  of  it  is  known  to  the  ex- 
manager  of  the  English  Provident  Bank." 

The  man  in  the  corner  had  been  silent  for 
some  time.  Miss  Polly  Burton,  in  her  presump- 
tion, had  made  up  her  mind,  at  the  commencement 


1 86         THE   MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

of  his  tale,  to  listen  attentively  to  every  point  of 
the  evidence  in  connection  with  the  case  which  he 
recapitulated  before  her,  and  to  follow  the  point, 
in  order  to  try  and  arrive  at  a  conclusion  of  her 
own,  and  overwhelm  the  antediluvian  scarecrow 
with  her  sagacity. 

She  said  nothing,  for  she  had  arrived  at  no  con- 
clusion; the  case  puzzled  everyone,  and  had 
amazed  the  public  in  its  various  stages,  from  the 
moment  when  opinion  began  to  cast  doubt  on  Mr. 
Ireland's  honesty  to  that  when  his  integrity  was 
proved  beyond  a  doubt.  One  or  two  people  had 
suspected  Mrs.  Ireland  to  have  been  the  actual 
thief,  but  that  idea  had  soon  to  be  abandoned. 

Mrs.  Ireland  had  all  the  money  she  wanted ;  the 
theft  occurred  six  months  ago,  and  not  a  single 
bank-note  was  ever  traced  to  her  pocket;  more- 
over, she  must  have  had  an  accomplice,  since 
someone  else  was  in  the  manager's  room  that 
night;  and  if  that  someone  else  was  her  accom- 
plice, why  did  she  risk  betraying  him  by  speaking 
loudly  in  the  presence  of  James  Fairbairn,  when  it 
would  have  been  so  much  simpler  to  turn  out  the 
light  and  plunge  the  hall  into  darkness  ? 

"  You  are  altogether  on  the  wrong  track," 
sounded  a  sharp  voice  in  direct  answer  to  Polly's 
thoughts — "altogether  wrong.  If  you  want  to 
acquire  my  method  of  induction,  and  improve 
your  reasoning  power,  you  must  follow  my  system. 
First  think  of  the  one  absolutely  undisputed,  posi- 


AN   ALIBI  187 

tive  fact.  You  must  have  a  starting  point,  and 
not  go  wandering  about  in  the  realms  of  supposi- 
tions." 

"  But  there  are  no  positive  facts,"  she  said 
irritably. 

"You  don't  say  so?"  he  said  quietly.  "Do 
you  not  call  it  a  positive  fact  that  the  bank  safe 
was  robbed  of  £5000  on  the  evening  of  March 
25th  before  11.30  p.  m.?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  which  is  positive  and " 

"  Do  you  not  call  it  a  positive  fact,"  he  inter- 
rupted quietly,  "  that  the  lock  of  the  safe  not  be- 
ing picked,  it  must  have  been  opened  by  its  own 
key?" 

"  I  know  that,"  she  rejoined  crossly,  "  and  that 
is  why  everyone  agreed  that  James  Fairbairn1 
could  not  possibly " 

"And  do  you  not  call  it  a  positive  fact,  then, 
that  James  Fairbairn  could  not  possibly,  etc.,  etc., 
seeing  that  the  glass  partition  door  was  locked 
from  the  inside;  Mrs.  Ireland  herself  let  James 
Fairbairn  into  her  husband's  office  when  she  saw 
him  lying  fainting  before  the  open  safe.  Of 
course  that  was  a  positive  fact,  and  so  was  the  one 
that  proved  to  any  thinking  mind  that  if  that  safe 
was  opened  with  a  key,  it  could  only  have  been 
done  by  a  person  having  access  to  that  key." 

"  But  the  man  in  the  private  office " 

"  Exactly !  the  man  in  the  private  office. 
Enumerate  his  points,  if  you  please,"  said  the 


1 88         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

funny  creature,  marking  each  point  with  one  of  his 
favourite  knots.  "  He  was  a  man  who  might  that 
night  have  had  access  to  the  key  of  the  safe,  un- 
suspected by  the  manager  or  even  his  wife,  and  a 
man  for  whom  Mrs.  Ireland  was  willing  to  tell  a 
downright  lie.  Are  there  many  men  for  whom 
a  woman  of  the  better  middle  class,  and  an  Eng- 
lish woman,  would  be  ready  to  perjure  herself? 
Surely  not!  She  might  do  it  for  her  husband. 
The  public  thought  she  had.  It  never  struck  them 
that  she  might  have  done  it  for  her  son !  " 

"  Her  son !  "  exclaimed  Polly. 

"Ah!  she  was  a  clever  woman,"  he  ejaculated 
enthusiastically,  "one  with  courage  and  presence 
of  mind,  which  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  seen 
equalled.  She  runs  downstairs  before  going  to  bed 
in  order  to  see  whether  the  last  post  has  brought 
any  letters.  She  sees  the  door  of  her  husband's 
office  .ajar,  she  pushes  it  open,  and  there,  by  the 
sudden  flash  of  a  hastily  struck  match,  she  realises 
in  a  moment  that  a  thief  stands  before  the  open 
safe,  and  in  that  thief  she  has  already  recognised 
her  son.  At  that  very  moment  she  hears  the 
watchman's  step  approaching  the  partition.  There 
is  no  time  to  warn  her  son;  she  does  not  know 
the  glass  door  is  locked;  James  Fairbairn  may 
switch  on  the  electric  light  and  see  the  young  man 
in  the  very  act  of  robbing  his  employers'  safe. 

"  One  thing  alone  can  reassure  the  watchman. 
One  person  alone  had  the  right  to  be  there  at  that 


AN   ALIBI  189 

hour  of  the  night,  and  without  hesitation  she  pro- 
nounces her  husband's  name. 

"  Mind  you,  I  firmly  believe  that  at  the  time  the 
poor  woman  only  wished  to  gain  time,  that  she 
had  every  hope  that  her  son  had  not  yet  had  the 
opportunity  to  lay  so  heavy  a  guilt  upon  his  con- 
science. 

"  What  passed  between  mother  and  son  we  shall 
never  know,  but  this  much  we  do  know,  that  the 
young  villain  made  off  with  his  booty,  and  trusted 
that  his  mother  would  never  betray  him.  Poor 
woman!  what  a  night  of  it  she  must  have  spent; 
but  she  was  clever  and  far-seeing.  She  knew  that 
her  husband's  character  could  not  suffer  through 
her  action.  Accordingly,  she  took  the  only  course 
open  to  her  to  save  her  son  even  from  his  father's 
wrath,  and  boldly  denied  James  Fairbairn's  state- 
ment. 

"  Of  course,  she  was  fully  aware  that  her  hus- 
band could  easily  clear  himself,  and  the  worst  that 
could  be  said  of  her  was  that  she  had  thought  him 
guilty  and  had  tried  to  save  him.  She  trusted  to 
the  future  to  clear  her  of  any  charge  of  complicity 
in  the  theft. 

"  By  now  everyone  has  forgotten  most  of  the 
circumstances;  the  police  are  still  watching  the 
career  of  James  Fairbairn  and  Mrs.  Ireland's  ex- 
penditure. As  you  know,  not  a  single  note,  so 
far,  has  been  traced  to  her.  Against  that,  one  or 
two  of  the  notes  have  found  their  way  back  to 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

England.  No  one  realises  how  easy  it  is  to  cash 
English  bank-notes  at  the  smaller  agents  de  change 
abroad.  The  changeurs  are  only  too  glad  to  get 
them ;  what  do  they  care  where  they  come  from  as 
long  as  they  are  genuine?  And  a  week  or  two  later 
M.  le  Changeur  could  not  swear  who  tendered  him 
any  one  particular  note. 

"You  see,  young  Robert  Ireland  went  abroad; 
he  will  come  back  some  day  having  made  a  for- 
tune. There's  his  photo.  And  this  is  his  mother 
— a  clever  woman,  wasn't  she?  " 

And  before  Polly  had  time  to  reply  he  was 
gone.  She  really  had  never  seen  anyone  move 
across  a  room  so  quickly.  But  he  always  left  an 
interesting  trail  behind:  a  piece  of  string  knotted 
from  end  to  end  and  a  few  photos. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE  DUBLIN  MYSTERY 

"I  ALWAYS  thought  that  the  history  of  that 
forged  will  was  about  as  interesting  as  any  I  had 
read,"  said  the  man  in  the  corner  that  day.  He 
'had  been  silent  for  some  time,  and  was  medita- 
tively sorting  and  looking  through  a  packet  of 
small  photographs  in  his  pocket-book.  Polly 
guessed  that  some  of  these  would  presently  be 
placed  before  her  for  inspection — and  she  had  not 
long  to  wait. 

'  That  is  old  Brooks,"  he  said,  pointing  to  one 
of  the  photographs,  "  Millionaire  Brooks,  as  he 
was  called,  and  these  are  his  two  sons,  Percival 
and  Murray.  It  was  a  curious  case,  wasn't  it? 
Personally  I  don't  wonder  that  the  police  were 
completely  at  sea.  If  a  member  of  that  highly 
estimable  force  happened  to  be  as  clever  as  the 
clever  author  of  that  forged  will,  we  should  have 
very  few  undetected  crimes  in  this  country." 

"That  is  why  I  always  try  to  persuade  you  to 
give  our  poor  ignorant  police  the  benefit  of  your 
great  insight  and  wisdom,"  said  Polly,  with  a 
smile. 

"I  know,"  he  said  blandly,  "you  have  been 
191 


192         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

most  kind  in  that  way,  but  I  am  only  an  amateur. 
Crime  interests  me  only  when  it  resembles  a  clever 
game  of  chess,  with  many  intricate  moves  which 
all  tend  to  one  solution,  the  checkmating  of  the 
antagonist — the  detective  force  of  the  country. 
Now,  confess  that,  in  the  Dublin  mystery,  the 
clever  police  there  were  absolutely  checkmated." 

"Absolutely." 

"Just  as  the  public  was.  There  were  actually 
two  crimes  committed  in  one  city  which  have  com- 
pletely baffled  detection:  the  murder  of  Patrick 
Wethered  the  lawyer,  and  the  forged  will  of  Mil- 
lionaire Brooks.  There  are  not  many  millionaires 
in  Ireland;  no  wonder  old  Brooks  was  a  notability 
in  his  way,  since  his  business — bacon  curing,  I  be- 
lieve it  is — is  said  to  be  worth  over  £2,000,000  of 
solid  money. 

"  His  younger  son,  Murray,  was  a  refined, 
highly-educated  man,  and  was,  moreover,  the  apple 
of  his  father's  eye,  as  he  was  the  spoilt  darling  of 
Dublin  society;  good-looking,  a  splendid  dancer, 
and  a  perfect  rider,  he  was  the  acknowledged 
*  catch  '  of  the  matrimonial  market  of  Ireland,  and 
many  a  very  aristocratic  house  was  opened  hos- 
pitably to  the  favourite  son  of  the  millionaire. 

"  Of  course,  Percival  Brooks,  the  eldest  son, 
would  inherit  the  bulk  of  the  old  man's  property 
and  also  probably  the  larger  share  of  the  busi- 
ness; he,  too,  was  good-looking,  more  so  than  his 
brother;  he,  too,  rode,  danced,  and  talked  well, 


193 

but  it  was  many  years  ago  that  mammas  with 
marriageable  daughters  had  given  up  all  hopes  of 
Percival  Brooks  as  a  probable  son-in-law.  That 
young  man's  infatuation  for  Maisie  Fortescue,  a 
lady  of  undoubted  charm  but  very  doubtful  ante- 
cedents, who  had  astonished  the  London  and  Dub- 
lin music-halls  with  her  extravagant  dances,  was 
too  well  known  and  too  old-established  to  encour- 
age any  hopes  in  other  quarters. 

"  Whether  Percival  Brooks  would  ever  marry 
Maisie  Fortescue  was  thought  to  be  very  doubtful. 
Old  Brooks  had  the  full  disposal  of  all  his  wealth, 
and  it  would  have  fared  ill  with  Percival  if  he  in- 
troduced an  undesirable  wife  into  the  magnificent 
Fitzwilliam  Place  establishment. 

;<  That  is  how  matters  stood,"  continued  the 
man  in  the  corner,  "when  Dublin  society  one 
morning  learnt,  with  deep  regret  and  dismay,  that 
old  Brooks  had  died  very  suddenly  at  his  residence 
after  only  a  few  hours'  illness.  At  first  it  was 
generally  understood  that  he  had  had  an  apoplec- 
tic stroke;  anyway,  he  had  been  at  business  hale 
and  hearty  as  ever  the  day  before  his  death, 
which  occurred  late  on  the  evening  of  February 
ist. 

"It  was  the  morning  papers  of  February  2nd 
which  told  the  sad  news  to  their  readers,  and  it 
was  those  self-same  papers  which  on  that  eventful 
morning  contained  another  even  more  startling 
piece  of  news,  that  proved  the  prelude  to  a  series 


194        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

of  sensations  such  as  tranquil,  placid  Dublin  had 
not  experienced  for  many  years.  This  was,  that 
on  that  very  afternoon  which  saw  the  death  of 
Dublin's  greatest  millionaire,  Mr.  Patrick  Weth- 
ered,  his  solicitor,  was  murdered  in  Phoenix  Park 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  while  actually 
walking  to  his  own  house  from  his  visit  to  his 
client  in  Fitzwilliam  Place. 

"Patrick  Wethered  was  as  well  known  as  the 
proverbial  town  pump;  his  mysterious  and  tragic 
death  filled  all  Dublin  with  dismay.  The  lawyer, 
who  was  a  man  sixty  years  of  age,  had  been 
struck  on  the  back  of  the  head  by  a  heavy  stick, 
garrotted,  and  subsequently  robbed,  for  neither 
money,  watch,  or  pocket-book  were  found  upon 
his  person,  whilst  the  police  soon  gathered  from 
Patrick  Wethered's  household  that  he  had  left 
home  at  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  carrying  both 
watch  and  pocket-book,  and  undoubtedly  money  as 
well. 

"  An  inquest  was  held,  and  a  verdict  of  wilful 
murder  was  found  against  some  person  or  persons 
unknown. 

"  But  Dublin  had  not  exhausted  its  stock  of 
sensations  yet.  Millionaire  Brooks  had  been 
buried  with  due  pomp  and  magnificence,  and  his 
will  had  been  proved  (his  business  and  personalty 
being  estimated  at  £2,500,000)  by  Percival 
Gordon  Brooks,  his  eldest  son  and  sole  executor. 
The  younger  son,  Murray,  who  had  devoted  the 


THE    DUBLIN   MYSTERY  195 

best  years  of  his  life  to  being  a  friend  and  com- 
panion to  his  father,  while  Percival  ran  after 
ballet  dancers  and  music-hall  stars — Murray,  who 
had  avowedly  been  the  apple  of  his  father's  eye  in 
consequence — was  left  with  a  miserly  pittance  of 
£300  a  year,  and  no  share  whatever  in  the  gigantic 
business  of  Brooks  &  Sons,  bacon  curers,  of  Dub- 
lin. 

"  Something  had  evidently  happened  within  the 
precincts  of  the  Brooks'  town  mansion,  which  the 
public  and  Dublin  society  tried  in  vain  to  fathom. 
Elderly  mammas  and  blushing  debutantes  were  al- 
ready thinking  of  the  best  means  whereby  next 
season  they  might  more  easily  show  the  cold 
shoulder  to  young  Murray  Brooks,  who  had  so 
suddenly  become  a  hopeless  '  detrimental '  in  the 
marriage  market,  when  all  these  sensations  ter- 
minated in  one  gigantic,  overwhelming  bit  of 
scandal,  which  for  the  next  three  months  furnished 
food  for  gossip  in  every  drawing-room  in  Dublin. 

"  Mr.  Murray  Brooks,  namely,  had  entered  a 
claim  for  probate  of  a  will,  made  by  his  father  in 
1891,  declaring  that  the  later  will,  made  the  very 
day  of  his  father's  death  and  proved  by  his 
brother  as  sole  executor,  was  null  and  void,  that 
will  being  a  forgery." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

FORGERY 

"  THE  facts  that  transpired  in  connection  with  this 
extraordinary  case  were  sufficiently  mysterious  to 
puzzle  everybody.  As  I  told  you  before,  all  Mr. 
Brooks'  friends  never  quite  grasped  the  idea  that 
the  old  man  should  so  completely  have  cut  off  his 
favourite  son  with  the  proverbial  shilling. 

;'You  see,  Percival  had  always  been  a  thorn  in 
the  old  man's  flesh.  Horse-racing,  gambling, 
theatres,  and  music-halls  were,  in  the  old  pork- 
butcher's  eyes,  so  many  deadly  sins  which  his  son 
committed  every  day  of  his  life,  and  all  the  Fitz- 
william  Place  household  could  testify  to  the  many 
and  bitter  quarrels  which  had  arisen  between 
father  and  son  over  the  latter's  gambling  or  racing 
debts.  Many  people  asserted  that  Brooks  would 
sooner  have  left  his  money  to  charitable  institu- 
tions than  seen  it  squandered  upon  the  brightest 
stars  that  adorned  the  music-hall  stage. 

"The  case  came  up  for  hearing  early  in  the 
autumn.  In  the  meanwhile  Percival  Brooks  had 
given  up  his  racecourse  associates,  settled  down  in 
the  Fitzwilliam  Place  mansion,  and  conducted  his 
father's  business,  without  a  manager,  but  with  all 

196 


FORGERY  197 

the  energy  and  forethought  which  he  had  pre- 
viously devoted  to  more  unworthy  causes. 

"  Murray  had  elected  not  to  stay  on  in  the  old 
house;  no  doubt  associations  were  of  too  painful 
and  recent  a  nature;  he  was  boarding  with  the 
family  of  a  Mr.  Wilson  Hibbert,  who  was  the 
late  Patrick  Wethered's,  the  murdered  lawyer's, 
partner.  They  were  quiet,  homely  people,  who 
lived  in  a  very  pokey  little  house  in  Kilkenny 
Street,  and  poor  Murray  must,  in  spite  of  his 
grief,  have  felt  very  bitterly  the  change  from  his 
luxurious  quarters  in  his  father's  mansion  to  his 
present  tiny  room  and  homely  meals. 

"  Percival  Brooks,  who  was  now  drawing  an  in- 
come of  over  a  hundred  thousand  a  year,  was  very 
severely  criticised  for  adhering  so  strictly  to  the 
letter  of  his  father's  will,  and  only  paying  his 
brother  that  paltry  £300  a  year,  which  was  very 
literally  but  the  crumbs  off  his  own  magnificent 
dinner  table. 

"  The  issue  of  that  contested  will  case  was 
therefore  awaited  with  eager  interest.  In  the 
meanwhile  the  police,  who  had  at  first  seemed 
fairly  loquacious  on  the  subject  of  the  murder  of 
Mr.  Patrick  Wethered,  suddenly  became  strangely 
reticent,  and  by  their  very  reticence  aroused  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  uneasiness  in  the  public  mind,  un- 
til one  day  the  Irish  Times  published  the  following 
extraordinary,  enigmatic  paragraph: 

"  *  We  hear  on  authority  which  cannot  be  ques- 


i98        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

tioned,  that  certain  extraordinary  developments 
are  expected  in  connection  with  the  brutal  murder 
of  our  distinguished  townsman,  Mr.  Wethered; 
the  police,  in  fact,  are  vainly  trying  to  keep  it 
secret  that  they  hold  a  clue  which  is  as  important 
as  it  is  sensational,  and  that  they  only  await  the 
impending  issue  of  a  well-known  litigation  in  the 
probate  court  to  effect  an  arrest.' 

"  The  Dublin  public  flocked  to  the  court  to  hear 
the  arguments  in  the  great  will  case.  I  myself 
journeyed  down  to  Dublin.  As  soon  as  I  suc- 
ceeded in  fighting  my  way  to  the  densely  crowded 
court,  I  took  stock  of  the  various  actors  in  the 
drama,  which  I  as  a  spectator  was  prepared  to 
enjoy.  There  were  Percival  Brooks  and  Murray 
his  brother,  the  two  litigants,  both  good-looking 
and  well-dressed,  and  both  striving,  by  keeping  up 
a  running  conversation  with  their  lawyer,  to  appear 
unconcerned  and  confident  of  the  issue.  With 
Percival  Brooks  was  Henry  Oranmore,  the  emi- 
nent Irish  K.  C.,  whilst  Walter  Hibbert,  a  rising 
young  barrister,  the  son  of  Wilson  Hibbert,  ap- 
peared for  Murray. 

"  The  will  of  which  the  latter  claimed  probate 
was  one  dated  1891,  and  had  been  made  by  Mr. 
Brooks  during  a  severe  illness  which  threatened 
to  end  his  days.  This  will  had  been  deposited  in 
the  hands  of  Messrs.  Wethered  and  Hibbert, 
solicitors  to  the  deceased,  and  by  it  Mr.  Brooks 
left  his  personalty  equally  divided  between  his 


FORGERY  199 

two  sons,  but  had  left  his  business  entirely  to  his 
youngest  son,  with  a  charge  of  £2000  a  year 
upon  it,  payable  to  Percival.  You  see  that 
Murray  Brooks,  therefore,  had  a  very  deep  in- 
terest in  that  second  will  being  found  null  and 
void. 

"  Old  Mr.  Hibbert  had  very  ably  instructed  his 
son,  and  Walter  Hibbert's  opening  speech  was  ex- 
ceedingly clever.  He  would  show,  he  said,  on 
behalf  of  his  client,  that  the  will  dated  February 
ist,  1908,  could  never  have  been  made  by  the 
late  Mr.  Brooks,  as  it  was  absolutely  contrary  to 
his  avowed  intentions,  and  that  if  the  late  Mr. 
Brooks  did  on  the  day  in  question  make  any  fresh 
will  at  all,  it  certainly  was  not  the  one  proved  by 
Mr.  Percival  Brooks,  for  that  was  absolutely  a 
forgery  from  beginning  to  end.  Mr.  Walter 
Hibbert  proposed  to  call  several  witnesses  in  sup- 
port of  both  these  points. 

"On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Henry  Oranmore, 
K.  C.,  very  ably  and  courteously  replied  that  he 
too  had  several  witnesses  to  prove  that  Mr. 
Brooks  certainly  did  make  a  will  on  the  day  in 
question,  and  that,  whatever  his  intentions  may 
have  been  in  the  past,  he  must  have  modified  them 
on  the  day  of  his  death,  for  the  will  proved  by 
Mr.  Percival  Brooks  was  found  after  his  death 
under  his  pillow,  duly  signed  and  witnessed  and  in 
every  way  legal. 

"Then    the    battle    began    in    sober    earnest. 


200         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

There  were  a  great  many  witnesses  to  be  called  on 
both  sides,  their  evidence  being  of  more  or  less 
importance — chiefly  less.  But  the  interest  chiefly 
centred  round  the  prosaic  figure  of  John  O'Neill, 
the  butler  at  Fitzwilliam  Place,  who  had  been  in 
Mr.  Brooks'  family  for  thirty  years. 

" '  I  was  clearing  away  my  breakfast  things,' 
said  John,  'when  I  heard  the  master's  voice  in 
the  study  close  by.  Oh,  my,  he  was  that  angry! 
I  could  hear  the  words  "  disgrace,"  and  "  villain," 
and  "  liar,"  and  "  ballet-dancer,"  and  one  or  two 
other  ugly  words  as  applied  to  some  female  lady, 
which  I  would  not  like  to  repeat.  At  first  I  did 
not  take  much  notice,  as  I  was  quite  used  to  hear- 
ing my  poor  dear  master  having  words  with  Mr. 
Percival.  So  I  went  downstairs  carrying  my 
breakfast  things;  but  I  had  just  started  cleaning 
my  silver  when  the  study  bell  goes  ringing 
violently,  and  I  hear  Mr.  Percival's  voice  shouting 
in  the  hall :  "  John !  quick !  Send  for  Dr.  Mulli- 
gan at  once.  Your  master  is  not  well !  Send  one 
of  the  men,  and  you  come  up  and  help  me  to  get 
Mr.  Brooks  to  bed." 

"  *  I  sent  one  of  the  grooms  for  the  doctor,' 
continued  John,  who  seemed  still  affected  at  the 
recollection  of  his  poor  master,  to  whom  he  had 
evidently  been  very  much  attached,  '  and  I  went 
up  to  see  Mr.  Brooks.  I  found  him  lying  on  the 
study  floor,  his  head  supported  in  Mr.  Percival's 
arms.  "My  father  has  fallen  in  a  faint,"  said 


FORGERY  201 

the  young  master;  "  help  me  to  get  him  up  to  his 
room  before  Dr.  Mulligan  comes." 

" '  Mr.  Percival  looked  very  white  and  upset, 
which  was  only  natural;  and  when  we  had  got 
my  poor  master  to  bed,  I  asked  if  I  should  not 
go  and  break  the  news  to  Mr.  Murray,  who  had 
gone  to  business  an  hour  ago.  However,  before 
Mr.  Percival  had  time  to  give  me  an  order  the 
doctor  came.  I  thought  I  had  seen  death  plainly 
writ  in  my  master's  face,  and  when  I  showed  the 
doctor  out  an  hour  later,  and  he  told  me  that  he 
would  be  back  directly,  I  knew  that  the  end  was 


near. 

U   ( 


Mr.  Brooks  rang  for  me  a  minute  or  two 
later.  He  told  me  to  send  at  once  for  Mr.  Weth- 
ered,  or  else  for  Mr.  Hibbert,  if  Mr.  Wethered 
could  not  come.  "  I  haven't  many  hours  to  live, 
John,"  he  says  to  me — "my  heart  is  broke,  the 
doctor  says  my  heart  is  broke.  A  man  shouldn't 
marry  and  have  children,  John,  for  they  will 
sooner  or  later  break  his  heart."  I  was  so  upset 
I  couldn't  speak;  but  I  sent  round  at  once  for  Mr. 
Wethered,  who  came  himself  just  about  three 
o'clock  that  afternoon. 

"  '  After  he  had  been  with  my  master  about  an 
hour  I  was  called  in,  and  Mr.  Wethered  said  to 
me  that  Mr.  Brooks  wished  me  and  one  other  of 
us  servants  to  witness  that  he  had  signed  a  paper 
which  was  on  a  table  by  his  bedside.  I  called  Pat 
Mooney,  the  head  footman,  and  before  us  both 


202         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Mr.  Brooks  put  his  name  at  the  bottom  of  that 
paper.  Then  Mr.  Wethered  give  me  the  pen  and 
told  me  to  write  my  name  as  a  witness,  and  that 
Pat  Mooney  was  to  do  the  same.  After  that  we 
were  both  told  that  we  could  go.' 

"  The  old  butler  went  on  to  explain  that  he  was 
present  in  his  late  master's  room  on  the  following 
day  when  the  undertakers,  who  had  come  to  lay 
the  dead  man  out,  found  a  paper  underneath  his 
pillow.  John  O'Neill,  who  recognised  the  paper 
as  the  one  to  which  he  had  appended  his  signature 
the  day  before,  took  it  to  Mr.  Percival,  and  gave 
it  into  his  hands. 

"  In  answer  to  Mr.  Walter  Hibbert,  John  as- 
serted positively  that  he  took  the  paper  from  the 
undertaker's  hand  and  went  straight  with  it  to 
Mr.  Percival's  room. 

"'He  was  alone,'  said  John;  'I  gave  him  the 
paper.  He  just  glanced  at  it,  and  I  thought  he 
looked  rather  astonished,  but  he  said  nothing,  and 
I  at  once  left  the  room.' 

"  *  When  you  say  that  you  recognised  the  paper 
as  the  one  which  you  had  seen  your  master  sign 
the  day  before,  how  did  you  actually  recognise 
that  it  was  the  same  paper?'  asked  Mr.  Hibbert 
amidst  breathless  interest  on  the  part  of  the  spec- 
tators. I  narrowly  observed  the  witness'  face. 

"  '  It  looked  exactly  the  same  paper  to  me,  sir,' 
replied  John,  somewhat  vaguely. 

"  *  Did  you  look  at  the  contents,  then?  ' 


FORGERY  203 

"  '  No,  sir;  certainly  not.' 

*  Had  you  done  so  the  day  before?' 
' '  No,  sir,  only  at  my  master's  signature.' 

'  Then  you  only  thought  by  the  outside  look 
of  the  paper  that  it  was  the  same?' 

'  It  looked  the  same  thing,  sir,'  persisted  John 
obstinately. 

''You  see,"  continued  the  man  in  the  corner, 
leaning  eagerly  forward  across  the  narrow  marble 
table,  "  the  contention  of  Murray  Brooks'  adviser 
was  that  Mr.  Brooks,  having  made  a  will  and 
hidden  it — for  some  reason  or  other,  under  his 
pillow — that  will  had  fallen,  through  the  means 
related  by  John  O'Neill,  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Percival  Brooks,  who  had  destroyed  it  and  sub- 
stituted a  forged  one  in  its  place,  which  adjudged 
the  whole  of  Mr.  Brooks'  millions  to  himself.  It 
was  a  terrible  and  very  daring  accusation  directed 
against  a  gentleman  who,  in  spite  of  his  many  wild 
oats  sowed  in  early  youth,  was  a  prominent  and 
important  figure  in  Irish  high-life. 

"All  those  present  were  aghast  at  what  they 
heard,  and  the  whispered  comments  I  could  hear 
around  me  showed  me  that  public  opinion,  at  least, 
did  not  uphold  Mr.  Murray  Brooks'  daring  ac- 
cusation against  his  brother. 

"  But  John  O'Neill  had  not  finished  his  evi- 
dence, and  Mr.  Walter  Hibbert  had  a  bit  of  sen- 
sation still  up  his  sleeve.  He  had,  namely,  pro- 
duced a  paper,  the  will  proved  by  Mr.  Percival 


204         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Brooks,  and  had  asked  John  O'Neill  if  once  again 
he  recognised  the  paper. 

"  *  Certainly,    sir/    said    John    unhesitatingly, 

*  that  is  the  one  the  undertaker  found  under  my 
poor  dead  master's  pillow,  and  which  I  took  to 
Mr.  Percival's  room  immediately.' 

"  Then  the  paper  was  unfolded  and  placed  be- 
fore the  witness. 

"  'Now,  Mr.  O'Neill,  will  you  tell  me  if  that  is 
your  signature  ? ' 

"  John  looked  at  it  for  a  moment;  then  he  said, 

*  Excuse  me,  sir,'  and  produced  a  pair  of  spectacles 
which  he  carefully  adjusted  before  he  again  exam- 
ined the  paper.    Then  he  thoughtfully  shook  his 
head. 

"  *  It  don't  look  much  like  my  writing,  sir,'  he 
said  at  last.  *  That  is  to  say,'  he  added,  by  way  of 
elucidating  the  matter,  *  it  does  look  like  my  writ- 
ing, but  then  I  don't  think  it  is.' 

"There  was  at  that  moment  a  look  in  Mr. 
'Percival  Brooks'  face,"  continued  the  man  in  the 
corner  quietly,  "  which  then  and  there  gave  me 
the  whole  history  of  that  quarrel,  that  illness  of 
Mr.  Brooks,  of  the  will,  aye  I  and  of  the  murder 
of  Patrick  Wethered  too. 

"  All  I  wondered  at  was  how  every  one  of 
those  learned  counsel  on  both  sides  did  not  get 
the  clue  just  the  same  as  I  did,  but  went  on  argu- 
ing, speechifying,  cross-examining  for  nearly  a 
week,  until  they  arrived  at  the  one  conclusion 


FORGERY  205 

which  was  inevitable  from  the  very  first,  namely, 
that  the  will  was  a  forgery — a  gross,  clumsy,  idiotic 
forgery,  since  both  John  O'Neill  and  Pat  Mooney, 
the  two  witnesses,  absolutely  repudiated  the  signa- 
tures as  their  own.  The  only  successful  bit  of 
caligraphy  the  forger  had  done  was  the  signature 
of  old  Mr.  Brooks. 

"  It  was  a  very  curious  fact,  and  one  which  had 
undoubtedly  aided  the  forger  in  accomplishing  his 
work  quickly,  that  Mr.  Wethered  the  lawyer  hav- 
ing, no  doubt,  realised  that  Mr.  Brooks  had  not 
many  moments  in  life  to  spare,  had  not  drawn  up 
the  usual  engrossed,  magnificent  document  dear  to 
the  lawyer  heart,  but  had  used  for  his  client's  will 
one  of  those  regular  printed  forms  which  can  be 
purchased  at  any  stationer's. 

"  Mr.  Percival  Brooks,  of  course,  flatly  denied 
the  serious  allegation  brought  against  him.  He 
admitted  that  the  butler  had  brought  him  the  docu- 
ment the  morning  after  his  father's  death,  and 
that  he  certainly,  on  glancing  at  it,  had  been  very 
much  astonished  to  see  that  that  document  was  his 
father's  will.  Against  that  he  declared  that  its 
contents  did  not  astonish  him  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree, that  he  himself  knew  of  the  testator's  inten- 
tions, but  that  he  certainly  thought  his  father  had 
entrusted  the  will  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Wethered, 
who  did  all  his  business  for  him. 

"  '  I  only  very  cursorily  glanced  at  the  signa- 
ture,' he  concluded,  speaking  in  a  perfectly  calm, 


206         THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

clear  voice ; '  you  must  understand  that  the  thought 
of  forgery  was  very  far  from  my  mind,  and  that 
my  father's  signature  is  exceedingly  well  imitated, 
if,  indeed,  it  is  not  his  own,  which  I  am  not  at  all 
prepared  to  believe.  As  for  the  two  witnesses7 
signatures,  I  don't  think  I  had  ever  seen  them  be- 
fore. I  took  the  document  to  Messrs.  Barkston 
and  Maud,  who  had  often  done  business  for  me 
before,  and  they  assured  me  that  the  will  was  in 
perfect  form  and  order.' 

"Asked  why  he  had  not  entrusted  the  will  to 
his  father's  solicitors,  he  replied : 

"  *  For  the  very  simple  reason  that  exactly  half 
an  hour  before  the  will  was  placed  in  my  hands,  I 
had  read  that  Mr.  Patrick  Wethered  had  been 
murdered  the  night  before.  Mr.  Hibbert,  the 
junior  partner,  was  not  personally  known  to  me.' 

"After  that,  for  form's  sake,  a  good  deal  of 
expert  evidence  was  heard  on  the  subject  of  the 
dead  man's  signature.  But  that  was  quite  unani- 
mous, and  merely  went  to  corroborate  what  had 
already  been  established  beyond  a  doubt,  namely, 
that  the  will  dated  February  ist,  1908,  was  a 
forgery,  and  probate  of  the  will  dated  1891  was 
therefore  granted  to  Mr.  Murray  Brooks,  the  sole 
executor  mentioned  therein." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

A  MEMORABLE  DAY 

"  Two  days  later  the  police  applied  for  a  warrant 
for  the  arrest  of  Mr.  Percival  Brooks  on  a  charge 
of  forgery. 

"The  Crown  prosecuted,  and  Mr.  Brooks  had 
again  the  support  of  Mr.  Oranmore,  the  eminent 
K.  C.  Perfectly  calm,  like  a  man  conscious  of  his 
own  innocence  and  unable  to  grasp  the  idea  that 
justice  does  sometimes  miscarry,  Mr.  Brooks,  the 
son  of  the  millionaire,  himself  still  the  possessor  of 
a  very  large  fortune  under  the  former  will,  stood 
up  in  the  dock  on  that  memorable  day  in  October, 
1908,  which  still  no  doubt  lives  in  the  memory  of 
his  many  friends. 

"All  the  evidence  with  regard  to  Mr.  Brooks* 
last  moments  and  the  forged  will  was  gone 
through  over  again.  That  will,  it  was  the  conten- 
tion of  the  Crown,  had  been  forged  so  entirely  in 
favour  of  the  accused,  cutting  out  everyone  else, 
that  obviously  no  one  but  the  beneficiary  under 
that  false  will  would  have  had  any  motive  in  forg- 
ing it. 

"Very  pale,  and  with  a  frown  between  his 
deep-set,  handsome  Irish  eyes,  Percival  Brooks  lis- 

207 


208         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

tened  to  this  large  volume  of  evidence  piled  up 
against  him  by  the  Crown. 

"  At  times  he  held  brief  consultations  with  Mr. 
Oranmore,  who  seemed  as  cool  as  a  cucumber. 
Have  you  ever  seen  Oranmore  in  court?  He  is 
a  character  worthy  of  Dickens.  His  pronounced 
brogue,  his  fat,  podgy,  clean-shaven  face,  his  not 
always  immaculately  clean  large  hands,  have  often 
delighted  the  caricaturist.  As  it  very  soon  tran- 
spired during  that  memorable  magisterial  inquiry, 
he  relied  for  a  verdict  in  favour  of  his  client  upon 
two  main  points,  and  he  had  concentrated  all  his 
skill  upon  making  these  two  points  as  telling  as  he 
possibly  could. 

14  The  first  point  was  the  question  of  time. 
John  O'Neill,  cross-examined  by  Oranmore,  stated 
without  hesitation  that  he  had  given  the  will  to 
Mr.  Percival  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
And  now  the  eminent  K.  C.  brought  forward  and 
placed  in  the  witness-box  the  very  lawyers  into 
whose  hands  the  accused  had  then  immediately 
placed  the  will.  Now,  Mr.  Barkston,  a  very  well- 
known  solicitor  of  King  Street,  declared  positively 
that  Mr.  Percival  Brooks  was  in  his  office  at  a 
quarter  before  twelve;  two  of  his  clerks  testified 
to  the  same  time  exactly,  and  it  was  impossible, 
contended  Mr.  Oranmore,  that  within  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  Mr.  Brooks  could  have  gone 
to  a  stationer's,  bought  a  will  form,  copied  Mr. 
Wethered's  writing,  his  father's  signature,  and 
that  of  John  O'Neill  and  Pat  Mooney. 


A   MEMORABLE    DAY  209 

"  Such  a  thing  might  have  been  planned,  ar- 
ranged, practised,  and  ultimately,  after  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  successfully  carried  out,  but  human 
intelligence  could  not  grasp  the  other  as  a  pos- 
sibility. 

"  Still  the  judge  wavered.  The  eminent  K.  C. 
had  shaken  but  not  shattered  his  belief  in  the 
prisoner's  guilt.  But  there  was  one  point  more, 
and  this  Oranmore,  with  the  skill  of  a  dramatist, 
had  reserved  for  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 

"He  noted  every  sign  in  the  judge's  face,  he 
guessed  that  his  client  was  not  yet  absolutely  safe, 
then  only  did  he  produce  his  last  two  witnesses. 

"  One  of  them  was  Mary  Sullivan,  one  of  the 
housemaids  in  the  Fitzwilliam  mansion.  She  had 
been  sent  up  by  the  cook  at  a  quarter  past  four 
o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  February  ist  with 
some  hot  water,  which  the  nurse  had  ordered,  for 
the  master's  room.  Just  as  she  was  about  to 
knock  at  the  door  Mr.  Wethered  was  coming  out 
of  the  room.  Mary  stopped  with  the  tray  in  her 
hand,  and  at  the  door  Mr.  Wethered  turned  and 
said  quite  loudly :  *  Now,  don't  fret,  don't  be 
anxious ;  do  try  and  be  calm.  Your  will  is  safe  in 
my  pocket,  nothing  can  change  it  or  alter  one  word 
of  it  but  yourself.' 

"  It  was,  of  course,  a  very  ticklish  point  in  law 
whether  the  housemaid's  evidence  could  be  ac- 
cepted. You  see,  she  was  quoting  the  words  of  a 
man  since  dead,  spoken  to  another  man  also  dead. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  had  there  been  very  strong 


210         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

evidence  on  the  other  side  against  Percival  Brooks, 
Mary  Sullivan's  would  have  counted  for  nothing; 
but,  as  I  told  you  before,  the  judge's  belief  in  the 
prisoner's  guilt  was  already  very  seriously  shaken, 
and  now  the  final  blow  aimed  at  it  by  Mr.  Oran- 
more  shattered  his  last  lingering  doubt. 

"  Dr.  Mulligan,  namely,  had  been  placed  by 
Mr.  Oranmore  into  the  witness-box.  He  was  a 
medical  man  of  unimpeachable  authority,  in  fact, 
absolutely  at  the  head  of  his  profession  In  Dublin. 
What  he  said  practically  corroborated  Mary  Sulli- 
van's testimony.  He  had  gone  in  to  see  Mr. 
Brooks  at  half-past  four,  and  understood  from  him 
that  his  lawyer  had  just  left  him. 

"  Mr.  Brooks  certainly,  though  terribly  weak, 
was  calm  and  more  composed.  He  was  dying 
from  a  sudden  heart  attack,  and  Dr.  Mulligan 
foresaw  the  almost  immediate  end.  But  he  was 
still  conscious  and  managed  to  murmur  feebly :  '  I 
feel  much  easier  in  my  mind  now,  doctor — I  have 
made  my  will — Wethered  has  been — he's  got  it  in 

his  pocket — it  is  safe  there — safe  from  that ' 

But  the  words  died  on  his  lips,  and  after  that  he 
spoke  but  little.  He  saw  his  two  sons  before  he 
died,  but  hardly  knew  them  or  even  looked  at 
them." 

"  You  see,"  concluded  the  man  in  the  corner, 
"you  see  that  the  prosecution  was  bound  to  col- 
lapse. Oranmore  did  not  give  it  a  leg  to  stand 
on.  The  will  was  forged,  it  is  true,  forged  in 


A   MEMORABLE   DAY  211 

the  favour  of  Perclval  Brooks  and  of  no  one  else, 
forged  for  him  and  for  his  benefit.  Whether  he 
knew  and  connived  at  the  forgery  was  never 
proved  or,  as  far  as  I  know,  even  hinted,  but  it 
was  impossible  to  go  against  all  the  evidence, 
which  pointed  that,  as  far  as  the  act  itself  was 
concerned,  he  at  least  was  innocent.  You  see,  Dr. 
Mulligan's  evidence  was  not  to  be  shaken.  Mary 
Sullivan's  was  equally  strong. 

"  There  were  two  witnesses  swearing  positively 
that  old  Brooks'  will  was  in  Mr.  Wethered's  keep- 
ing when  that  gentleman  left  the  Fitzwilliam  man- 
sion at  a  quarter  past  four.  At  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  the  lawyer  was  found  dead  in  Phoenix 
Park.  Between  a  quarter  past  four  and  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening  Percival  Brooks  never  left 
the  house — that  was  subsequently  proved  by  Oran- 
more  up  to  the  hilt  and  beyond  a  doubt.  Since 
the  will  found  under  old  Brooks*  pillow  was  a 
forged  will,  where  then  was  the  will  he  did  make, 
and  which  Wethered  carried  away  with  him  in 
his  pocket?" 

"  Stolen,  of  course,"  said  Polly,  "  by  those  who 
murdered  and  robbed  him;  it  may  have  been 
of  no  value  to  them,  but  they  naturally  would 
destroy  it,  lest  it  might  prover  a  clue  against 
them." 

"  Then  you  think  it  was  mere  coincidence?"  he 
asked  excitedly. 

"What?" 


212         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  That  Wethered  was  murdered  and  robbed  at 
the  very  moment  that  he  carried  the  will  in  his 
pocket,  whilst  another  was  being  forged  in  its 
place?" 

"  It  certainly  would  be  very  curious,  if  it  were 
a  coincidence,"  she  said  musingly. 

"  Very,"  he  repeated  with  biting  sarcasm,  whilst 
nervously  his  bony  fingers  played  with  the  inevit- 
able bit  of  string.  "  Very  curious  indeed.  Just 
think  of  the  whole  thing.  There  was  the  old  man 
with  all  his  wealth,  and  two  sons,  one  to  whom 
he  is  devoted,  and  the  other  with  whom  he  does 
nothing  but  quarrel.  One  day  there  is  another 
of  these  quarrels,  but  more  violent,  more  terrible 
than  any  that  have  previously  occurred,  with  the 
result  that  the  father,  heartbroken  by  it  all,  has  an 
attack  of  apoplexy  and  practically  dies  of  a  broken 
heart.  After  that  he  alters  his  will,  and  sub- 
sequently a  will  is  proved  which  turns  out  to  be  a 
forgery. 

"  Now  everybody — police,  press,  and  public 
alike — at  once  jump  to  the  conclusion  that,  as 
Percival  Brooks  benefits  by  that  forged  will,  Per- 
cival  Brooks  must  be  the  forger." 

"  Seek  for  him  whom  the  crime  benefits,  is  your 
own  axiom,"  argued  the  girl. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon?  " 

"  Percival  Brooks  benefited  to  the  tune  of 
£2,000,000." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.     He  did  nothing  of  the 


A   MEMORABLE   DAY  213 

sort.  He  was  left  with  less  than  half  the  share 
that  his  younger  brother  inherited." 

"Now,  yes;  but  that  was  a  former  will 
and "  ' 

"And  that  forged  will  was  so  clumsily  executed, 
the  signature  so  carelessly  imitated,  that  the 
forgery  was  bound  to  come  to  light.  Did  that 
never  strike  you?" 

«  Yes,  but " 

"  There  is  no  but,"  he  interrupted.  "  It  was 
all  as  clear  as  daylight  to  me  from  the  very  first. 
The  quarrel  with  the  old  man,  which  broke  his 
heart,  was  not  with  his  eldest  son,  with  whom 
he  was  used  to  quarrelling,  but  with  the  second  son 
whom  he  idolised,  in  whom  he  believed.  Don't 
you  remember  how  John  O'Neill  heard  the  words 
'liar'  and  'deceit'?  Percival  Brooks  had  never 
deceived  his  father.  His  sins  were  all  on  the  sur- 
face. Murray  had  led  a  quiet  life,  had  pandered 
to  his  father,  and  fawned  upon  him,  until,  like 
most  hypocrites,  he  at  last  got  found  out.  Who 
knows  what  ugly  gambling  debt  or  debt  of  honour, 
suddenly  revealed  to  old  Brooks,  was  the  cause  of 
that  last  and  deadly  quarrel? 

"  You  remember  that  it  was  Percival  who  re- 
mained beside  his  father  and  carried  him  up  to 
his  room.  Where  was  Murray  throughout  that 
long  and  painful  day,  when  his  father  lay  dying 
— he,  the  idolised  son,  the  apple  of  the  old  man's 
eye?  You  never  hear  his  name  mentioned  as  be- 


2i4         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

ing  present  there  all  that  day.  But  he  knew  that 
he  had  offended  his  father  mortally,  and  that  his 
father  meant  to  cut  him  off  with  a  shilling.  He 
knew  that  Mr.  Wethered  had  been  sent  for,  that 
Wethered  left  the  house  soon  after  four  o'clock. 

"  And  here  the  cleverness  of  the  man  comes  in. 
Having  lain  in  wait  for  Wethered  and  knocked 
him  on  the  back  of  the  head  with  a  stick,  he  could 
not  very  well  make  that  will  disappear  altogether. 
There  remained  the  faint  chance  of  some  other 
witnesses  knowing  that  Mr.  Brooks  had  made  a 
fresh  will,  Mr.  Wethered's  partner,  his  clerk,  or 
one  of  the  confidential  servants  in  the  house. 
Therefore  a  will  must  be  discovered  after  the  old 
man's  death. 

"  Now,  Murray  Brooks  was  not  an  expert 
forger,  it  takes  years  of  training  to  become  that. 
A  forged  will  executed  by  himself  would  be  sure 
to  be  found  out — yes,  that's  it,  sure  to  be  found 
out.  The  forgery  will  be  palpable — let  it  be 
palpable,  and  then  it  will  be  found  out,  branded 
as  such,  and  the  original  will  of  1891,  so  favour- 
able to  the  young  blackguard's  interests,  would  be 
held  as  valid.  Was  it  devilry  or  merely  additional 
caution  which  prompted  Murray  to  pen  that 
forged  will  so  glaringly  in  Percival's  favour?  It 
is  impossible  to  say. 

"Anyhow,  it  was  the  cleverest  touch  in  that 
marvellously  devised  crime.  To  plan  that  evil 
deed  was  great,  to  execute  it  was  easy  enough. 


A  MEMORABLE   DAY  215 

He  had  several  hours'  leisure  in  which  to  do  it. 
Then  at  night  it  was  simplicity  itself  to  slip  the 
document  under  the  dead  man's  pillow.  Sacrilege 
causes  no  shudder  to  such  natures  as  Murray 
Brooks.  The  rest  of  the  drama  you  know  al- 
ready  '' 

"But  Percival  Brooks?" 

"  The  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  *  Not  guilty.' 
There  was  no  evidence  against  him." 

"But  the  money?  Surely  the  scoundrel  does 
not  have  the  enjoyment  of  it  still?  " 

"No;  he  enjoyed  it  for  a  time,  but  he  died 
about  three  months  ago,  and  forgot  to  take  the 
precaution  of  making  a  will,  so  his  brother  Per- 
cival has  got  the  business  after  all.  If  you  ever 
go  to  Dublin,  I  should  order  some  of  Brooks' 
bacon  if  I  were  you.  It  is  very  good." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

AN  UNPARALLELED  OUTRAGE 

"  Do  you  care  for  the  seaside?  "  asked  the  man  in 
the  corner  when  he  had  finished  his  lunch.  "  I 
don't  mean  the  seaside  at  Ostend  or  Trouville,  but 
•honest  English  seaside  with  nigger  minstrels, 
three-shilling  excursionists,  and  dirty,  expensive 
furnished  apartments,  where  they  charge  you  a 
shilling  for  lighting  the  hall  gas  on  Sundays  and 
sixpence  on  other  evenings.  Do  you  care  for 
that?" 

"  I  prefer  the  country." 

"Ah!  perhaps  it  is  preferable.  Personally  I 
only  liked  one  of  our  English  seaside  resorts  once, 
and  that  was  for  a  week,  when  Edward  Skinner 
was  up  before  the  magistrate,  charged  with  what 
was  known  as  the  *  Brighton  Outrage.'  I  don't 
know  if  you  remember  the  memorable  day  in 
Brighton,  memorable  for  that  elegant  town,  which 
deals  more  in  amusements  than  mysteries,  when 
Mr.  Francis  Morton,  one  of  its  most  noted  resi- 
dents, disappeared.  Yes!  disappeared  as  com- 
pletely as  any  vanishing  lady  in  a  music-hall.  He 
was  wealthy,  had  a  fine  house,  servants,  a  wife  and 
children,  and  he  disappeared.  There  was  no  get- 
ting away  from  that. 

216 


AN   UNPARALLELED   OUTRAGE       217 

"  Mr.  Francis  Morton  lived  with  his  wife  in 
one  of  the  large  houses  in  Sussex  Square  at  the 
Kemp  Town  end  of  Brighton.  Mrs.  Morton  was 
well  known  for  her  Americanisms,  her  swagger 
dinner  parties,  and  beautiful  Paris  gowns.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  many  American 
millionaires  (I  think  her  father  was  a  Chicago 
pork-butcher),  who  conveniently  provide  wealthy 
wives  for  English  gentlemen;  and  she  had  married 
Mr.  Francis  Morton  a  few  years  ago  and  brought 
him  her  quarter  of  a  million,  for  no  other  reason 
but  that  she  fell  in  love  with  him.  He  was 
neither  good-looking  nor  distinguished,  in  fact,  he 
was  one  of  those  men  who  seem  to  have  CITY 
stamped  all  over  their  person. 

"He  was  a  gentleman  of  very  regular  habits, 
going  up  to  London  every  morning  on  business 
and  returning  every  afternoon  by  the  '  husband's 
train.'  So  regular  was  he  in  these  habits  that  all 
the  servants  at  the  Sussex  Square  house  were  be- 
trayed into  actual  gossip  over  the  fact  that  on 
Wednesday,  March  lyth,  the  master  was  not 
home  for  dinner.  Hales,  the  butler,  remarked 
that  the  mistress  seemed  a  bit  anxious  and  didn't 
eat  much  food.  The  evening  wore  on  and  Mr. 
Morton  did  not  appear.  At  nine  o'clock  the 
young  footman  was  dispatched  to  the  station  to 
make  inquiries  whether  his  master  had  been  seen 
there  in  the  afternoon,  or  whether — which  Heaven 
forbid — there  had  been  an  accident  on  the  line. 


218         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

The  young  man  interviewed  two  or  three  porters, 
the  bookstall  boy,  and  ticket  clerk;  all  were  agreed 
that  Mr.  Morton  did  not  go  up  to  London  during 
the  day;  no  one  had  seen  him  within  the  precincts 
of  the  station.  There  certainly  had  been  no  ac- 
cident reported  either  on  the  up  or  down  line. 

"But  the  morning  of  the  i8th  came,  with  its 
usual  postman's  knock,  but  neither  Mr.  Morton 
nor  any  sign  or  news  from  him.  Mrs.  Morton, 
who  evidently  had  spent  a  sleepless  night,  for  she 
looked  sadly  changed  and  haggard,  sent  a  wire 
to  the  hall  porter  at  the  large  building  in  Cannon 
Street,  where  her  husband  had  his  office.  An 
hour  later  she  had  the  reply:  'Not  seen  Mr. 
Morton  all  day  yesterday,  not  here  to-day.'  By 
the  afternoon  everyone  in  Brighton  knew  that  a 
fellow-resident  had  mysteriously  disappeared 
from  or  in  the  city. 

"A  couple  of  days,  then  another,  elapsed,  and 
still  no  sign  of  Mr.  Morton.  The  police  were  do- 
ing their  best.  The  gentleman  was  so  well  known 
in  Brighton — as  he  had  been  a  resident  two  years 
-. — that  it  was  not  difficult  to  firmly  establish  the 
one  fact  that  he  had  not  left  the  city,  since  no  one 
saw  him  in  the  station  on  the  morning  of  the  I7th, 
nor  at  any  time  since  then.  Mild  excitement  pre- 
vailed throughout  the  town.  At  first  the  news- 
papers took  the  matter  somewhat  jocosely. 
*  Where  is  Mr.  Morton?'  was  the  usual  placard 
on  the  evening's  contents  bills,  but  after  three  days 


AN   UNPARALLELED   OUTRAGE       219 

had  gone  by  and  the  worthy  Brighton  resident 
was  still  missing,  while  Mrs.  Morton  was  seen  to 
look  more  haggard  and  careworn  every  day,  mild 
excitement  gave  place  to  anxiety. 

"  There  were  vague  hints  now  as  to  foul  play. 
The  news  had  leaked  out  that  the  missing  gentle- 
man was  carrying  a  large  sum  of  money  on  the 
day  of  his  disappearance.  There  were  also  vague 
rumours  of  a  scandal  not  unconnected  with  Mrs. 
Morton  herself  and  her  own  past  history,  which 
in  her  anxiety  for  her  husband  she  had  been  forced 
to  reveal  to  the  detective-inspector  in  charge  of 
the  case. 

"Then  on  Saturday  the  news  which  the  late 
evening  papers  contained  was  this: 

"  '  Acting  on  certain  information  received,  the 
police  to-day  forced  an  entrance  into  one  of  the 
rooms  of  Russell  House,  a  high-class  furnished 
apartment  on  the  King's  Parade,  and  there  they 
discovered  our  missing  distinguished  townsman, 
Mr.  Francis  Morton,  who  had  been  robbed  and 
subsequently  locked  up  in  that  room  since  Wednes- 
day, the  iyth.  When  discovered  he  was  in  the 
last  stages  of  inanition;  he  was  tied  into  an  arm- 
chair with  ropes,  a  thick  wool  shawl  had  been 
wound  round  his  mouth,  and  it  is  a  positive  marvel 
that,  left  thus  without  food  and  with  very  little 
air,  the  unfortunate  gentleman  survived  the  hor- 
rors of  these  four  days  of  incarceration. 

" '  He  has  been  conveyed  to  his  residence  in 


220         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

Sussex  Square,  and  we  are  pleased  to  say  that 
'Doctor  Mellish,  who  is  in  attendance,  has  de- 
clared his  patient  to  be  out  of  serious  danger,  and 
that  with  care  and  rest  he  will  be  soon  quite  him- 
self again. 

"  *  At  the  same  time  our  readers  will  learn  with 
unmixed  satisfaction  that  the  police  of  our  city, 
with  their  usual  acuteness  and  activity,  have  al- 
ready discovered  the  identity  and  whereabouts  of 
the  cowardly  ruffian  who  committed  this  un- 
paralleled outrage.' ' 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE    PRISONER 

"  I  REALLY  don't  know,"  continued  the  man  in  the 
corner  blandly,  "what  it  was  that  interested  me  in 
the  case  from  the  very  first.  Certainly  it  had 
nothing  very  out  of  the  way  or  mysterious  about 
it,  but  I  journeyed  down  to  Brighton  nevertheless, 
as  I  felt  that  something  deeper  and  more  subtle 
lay  behind  that  extraordinary  assault,  following  a 
robbery,  no  doubt. 

"  I  must  tell  you  that  the  police  had  allowed  it 
to  be  freely  circulated  abroad  that  they  held  a 
clue.  It  had  been  easy  enough  to  ascertain  who 
the  lodger  was  who  had  rented  the  furnished 
room  in  Russell  House.  His  name  was  supposed 
to  be  Edward  Skinner,  and  he  had  taken  the  room 
about  a  fortnight  ago,  but  had  gone  away  osten- 
sibly for  two  or  three  days  on  the  very  day  of  Mr. 
Morton's  mysterious  disappearance.  It  was  on 
the  2Oth  that  Mr.  Morton  was  found,  and  thirty- 
six  hours  later  the  public  were  gratified  to  hear 
that  Mr.  Edward  Skinner  had  been  traced  to  Lon- 
don and  arrested  on  the  charge  of  assault  upon  the 
person  of  Mr.  Francis  Morton  and  of  robbing 
him  of  the  sum  of  £10,000. 

221 


222         THE    MAN    IN    THE    CORNER 

"  Then  a  further  sensation  was  added  to  the  al- 
ready bewildering  case  by  the  startling  announce- 
ment that  Mr.  Francis  Morton  refused  to  prose- 
cute. 

"  Of  course,  the  Treasury  took  up  the  case  and 
subpoenaed  Mr.  Morton  as  a  witness,  so  that  gen- 
tleman— if  he  wished  to  hush  the  matter  up,  or 
had  been  in  any  way  terrorised  into  a  promise  of 
doing  so — gained  nothing  by  his  refusal,  except  an 
additional  amount  of  curiosity  in  the  public  mind 
and  further  sensation  around  the  mysterious  case. 

"  It  was  all  this,  you  see,  which  had  interested 
me  and  brought  me  down  to  Brighton  on  March 
2jrd  to  see  the  prisoner,  Edward  Skinner,  arraigned 
before  the  beak.  I  must  say  that  he  was  a  very 
ordinary-looking  individual.  Fair,  of  ruddy  com- 
plexion, with  snub  nose  and  the  beginning  of  a 
bald  place  on  the  top  of  his  head,  he,  too,  looked 
the  embodiment  of  a  prosperous,  stodgy  *  City 
gent.' 

"  I  took  a  quick  survey  of  the  witnesses  present, 
and  guessed  that  the  handsome,  stylish  woman 
sitting  next  to  Mr.  Reginald  Pepys,  the  noted 
lawyer  for  the  Crown,  was  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  There  was  a  large  crowd  in  court,  and  I 
heard  whispered  comments  among  the  feminine 
portion  thereof  as  to  the  beauty  of  Mrs.  Morton's 
gown,  the  value  of  her  large  picture  hat,  and  the 
magnificence  of  her  diamond  rings. 

"  The  police  gave  all  the  evidence  required  with 


THE    PRISONER  223 

regard  to  the  finding  of  Mr.  Morton  in  the  room 
at  Russell  House  and  also  to  the  arrest  of  Skinner 
at  the  Langham  Hotel  in  London.  It  appears 
that  the  prisoner  seemed  completely  taken  aback 
at  the  charge  preferred  against  him,  and  declared 
that  though  he  knew  Mr.  Francis  Morton  slightly 
in  business  he  knew  nothing  as  to  his  private 
life. 

*  Prisoner  stated,'  continued  Inspector  Buckle, 
*  that  he  was  not  even  aware  Mr.  Morton  lived  in 
Brighton,  but  I  have  evidence  here,  which  I  will 
place  before  your  Honour,  to  prove  that  the 
prisoner  was  seen  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Morton 
at  9.30  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  assault.' 

"  Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Matthew  Quiller,  the 
detective-inspector  admitted  that  prisoner  merely 
said  that  he  did  not  know  that  Mr.  Morton  was 
a  resident  of  Brighton — he  never  denied  having 
met  him  there. 

''  The  witness,  or  rather  witnesses,  referred  to 
by  the  police  were  two  Brighton  tradesmen  who 
knew  Mr.  Morton  by  sight  and  had  seen  him  on 
the  morning  of  the  iyth  walking  with  the  accused. 

"  In  this  instance  Mr.  Quiller  had  no  question 
to  ask  of  the  witnesses,  and  it  was  generally  un- 
derstood that  the  prisoner  did  not  wish  to  con- 
tradict their  statement. 

"  Constable  Hartrick  told  the  story  of  the  find- 
ing of  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Morton  after  his  four 
days'  incarceration.  The  constable  had  been  sent 


224         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

round  by  the  chief  inspector,  after  certain  informa- 
tion given  by  Mrs.  Chapman,  the  landlady  of  Rus- 
sel  House.  He  had  found  the  door  locked  and 
forced  it  open.  Mr.  Morton  was  in  an  arm-chair, 
with  several  yards  of  rope  wound  loosely  round 
him;  he  was  almost  unconscious,  and  there  was  a 
thick  wool  shawl  tied  round  his  mouth  which  must 
have  deadened  any  cry  or  groan  the  poor  gentle- 
man might  have  uttered.  But,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  constable  was  under  the  impression  that 
Mr.  Morton  had  been  either  drugged  or  stunned 
in  some  way  at  first,  which  had  left  him  weak  and 
faint  and  prevented  him  from  making  himself 
heard  or  extricating  himself  from  his  bonds, 
which  were  very  clumsily,  evidently  very  hastily, 
wound  round  his  body. 

"The  medical  officer  who  was  called  in,  and 
also  Dr.  Mellish  who  attended  Mr.  Morton,  both 
said  that  he  seemed  dazed  by  some  stupefying 
drug,  and  also,  of  course,  terribly  weak  and  faint 
with  the  want  of  food. 

"  The  first  witness  of  real  importance  was  Mrs. 
Chapman,  the  proprietress  of  Russell  House, 
whose  original  information  to  the  police  led  to 
the  discovery  of  Mr.  Morton.  In  answer  to  Mr. 
Pepys,  she  said  that  on  March  ist  the  accused 
called  at  her  house  and  gave  his  name  as  Mr. 
Edward  Skinner. 

'  He  required,  he  said,  a  furnished  room  at  a 
moderate  rental  for  a  permanency,  with  full  at- 


«'HE   HAD  FOUND  THE  DOOR    LOCKED  AND  FORCED  IT  OPEN*' 


THE    PRISONER  225 

tendance  when  he  was  in,  but  he  added  that  he 
would  often  be  away  for  two  or  three  days,  or 
even  longer,  at  a  time. 

" '  He  told  me  that  he  was  a  traveller  for  a 
tea-house,'  continued  Mrs.  Chapman,  '  and  I 
showed  him  the  front  room  on  the  third  floor,  as 
he  did  not  want  to  pay  more  than  twelve  shillings 
a  week.  I  asked  him  for  a  reference,  but  he  put 
three  sovereigns  in  my  hand,  and  said  with  a  laugh 
that  he  supposed  paying  for  his  room  a  month  in 
advance  was  sufficient  reference;  if  I  didn't  like 
him  after  that,  I  could  give  him  a  week's  notice  to 
quit.' 

'You  did  not  think  of  asking  him  the  name 
of  the  firm  for  which  he  travelled? '  asked  Mr. 
Pepys. 

'  No,  I  was  quite  satisfied  as  he  paid  me  for 
the  room.  The  next  day  he  sent  in  his  luggage 
and  took  possession  of  the  room.  He  went  out 
most  mornings  on  business,  but  was  always  in 
Brighton  for  Saturday  and  Sunday.  On  the  i6th 
he  told  me  that  he  was  going  to  Liverpool  for  a 
couple  of  days;  he  slept  in  the  house  that  night, 
and  went  off  early  on  the  iyth,  taking  his  port- 
manteau with  him.' 

"'At  what  time  did  he  leave?'  asked  Mr. 
Pepys. 

*  I  couldn't  say  exactly,'  replied  Mrs.  Chap- 
man with  some  hesitation.  'You  see  this  is  the 
off  season  here.  None  of  my  rooms  are  let,  ex- 


226         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

cept  the  one  to  Mr.  Skinner,  and  I  only  have  one 
servant.  I  keep  four  during  the  summer,  autumn, 
and  winter  season,'  she  added  with  conscious 
pride,  fearing  that  her  former  statement  might 
prejudice  the  reputation  of  Russell  House.  '  I 
thought  I  had  heard  Mr.  Skinner  go  out  about 
nine  o'clock,  but  about  an  hour  later  the  girl  and 
I  were  in  the  basement,  and  we  heard  the  front 
door  open  and  shut  with  a  bang,  and  then  a  step 
in  the  hall. 

"  '  "That's  Mr.  Skinner,"  said  Mary.  "  So  it 
is,"  I  said,  "  why,  I  thought  he  had  gone  an  hour 
ago."  "  He  did  go  out  then,"  said  Mary,  "  for 
he  left  his  bedroom  door  open  and  I  went  in  to 
do  his  bed  and  tidy  his  room."  "  Just  go  and  see 
if  that's  him,  Mary,"  I  said,  and  Mary  ran  up  to 
the  hall  and  up  the  stairs,  and  came  back  to  tell 
me  that  that  was  Mr.  Skinner  all  right  enough; 
he  had  gone  straight  up  to  his  room.  Mary 
didn't  see  him,  but  he  had  another  gentleman  with 
him,  as  she  could  hear  them  talking  in  Mr.  Skin- 


ner's room.' 


4  Then  you  can't  tell   us   at  what  time  the 
prisoner  left  the  house  finally?' 

"  '  No,  that  I  can't.  I  went  out  shopping  soon 
after  that.  When  I  came  in  it  was  twelve  o'clock. 
I  went  up  to  the  third  floor  and  found  that  Mr. 
Skinner  had  locked  his  door  and  taken  the  key 
with  him.  As  I  knew  Mary  had  already  done  the 
room  I  did  not  trouble  more  about  it,  though  I 


THE    PRISONER  227 

did  think  it  strange  for  a  gentleman  to  lock  up  his 
room  and  not  leave  the  key  with  me.' 

" '  And,  of  course,  you  heard  no  noise  of  any 
kind  in  the  room  then  ? ' 

"  *  No.  Not  that  day  or  the  next,  but  on  the 
third  day  Mary  and  I  both  thought  we  heard  a 
funny  sound.  I  said  that  Mr.  Skinner  had  left 
his  window  open,  and  it  was  the  blind  flapping 
against  the  window-pane;  but  when  we  heard  that 
funny  noise  again  I  put  my  ear  to  the  keyhole  and 
I  thought  I  could  hear  a  groan.  I  was  very 
frightened,  and  sent  Mary  for  the  police.' 

"Mrs.  Chapman  had  nothing  more  of  interest 
to  say.  The  prisoner  certainly  was  her  lodger. 
She  had  last  seen  him  on  the  evening  of  the  i6th 
going  up  to  his  room  with  his  candle.  Mary  the 
servant  had  much  the  same  story  to  relate  as  her 
mistress. 

4 1  think  it  was  'im,  right  enough,'  said  Mary 
guardedly.  '  I  didn't  see  'im,  but  I  went  up  to 
'is  landing  and  stopped  a  moment  outside  'is  door. 
I  could  'ear  loud  voices  in  the  room — gentlemen 
talking.' 

'  I  suppose  you  would  not  do  such  a  thing  as 
to  listen,  Mary? '  queried  Mr.  Pepys  with  a  smile. 
1  *  No,  sir,'  said  Mary  with  a  bland  smile,  *  I 
didn't  catch  what  the  gentlemen  said,  but  one  of 
them  spoke  so  loud  I  thought  they  must  be  quarrel- 
ling.' 

*  Mr.  Skinner  was  the  only  person  in  posses- 


228        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

sion  of  a  latchkey,  I  presume.  No  one  else  could 
have  come  in  without  ringing  at  the  door  ? ' 

"  '  Oh,  no,  sir,' 

"  That  was  all.  So  far,  you  see,  the  case  was 
progressing  splendidly  for  the  Crown  against  the 
prisoner.  The  contention,  of  course,  was  that 
Skinner  had  met  Mr.  Morton,  brought  him  home 
with  him,  assaulted,  drugged,  then  gagged  and 
bound  him,  and  finally  robbed  him  of  whatever 
money  he  had  in  his  possession,  which,  according 
to  certain  affidavits  which  presently  would  be 
placed  before  the  magistrate,  amounted  to  £10,- 
ooo  in  notes. 

"  But  in  all  this  there  still  remained  the  great 
element  of  mystery  for  which  the  public  and  the 
magistrate  would  demand  an  explanation :  namely, 
what  were  the  relationships  between  Mr.  Morton 
and  Skinner,  which  had  induced  the  former 
to  refuse  the  prosecution  of  the  man  who  had  not 
only  robbed  him,  but  had  so  nearly  succeeded  in 
leaving  him  to  die  a  terrible  and  lingering  death  ? 

"  Mr.  Morton  was  too  ill  as  yet  to  appear  in 
person.  Dr.  Mellish  had  absolutely  forbidden  his 
patient  to  undergo  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of 
giving  evidence  himself  in  court  that  day.  But 
his  depositions  had  been  taken  at  his  bedside,  were 
sworn  to  by  him,  and  were  now  placed  before  the 
magistrate  by  the  prosecuting  counsel,  and  the 
facts  they  revealed  were  certainly  as  remarkable 
as  they  were  brief  and  enigmatical. 


THE    PRISONER  229 

"As  they  were  read  by  Mr.  Pepys,  an  awed 
and  expectant  hush  seemed  to  descend  over  the 
large  crowd  gathered  there,  and  all  necks  were 
strained  eagerly  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a 
tall,  elegant  woman,  faultlessly  dressed  and  wear- 
ing exquisite  jewellery,  but  whose  handsome  face 
wore,  as  the  prosecuting  counsel  read  her  hus- 
band's deposition,  a  more  and  more  ashen  hue. 

'  This,  your  Honour,  is  the  statement  made 
upon  oath  by  Mr.  Francis  Morton,'  commenced 
Mr.  Pepys  in  that  loud,  sonorous  voice  of  his 
which  sounds  so  impressive  in  a  crowded  and 
hushed  court.  * "  I  was  obliged,  for  certain  rea- 
sons which  I  refuse  to  disclose,  to  make  a  payment 
of  a  large  sum  of  money  to  a  man  whom  I  did 
not  know  and  have  never  seen.  It  was  in  a 
matter  of  which  my  wife  was  cognisant  and  which 
had  entirely  to  do  with  her  own  affairs.  I  was 
merely  the  go-between,  as  I  thought  it  was  not  fit 
that  she  should  see  to  this  matter  herself.  The 
individual  in  question  had  made  certain  demands, 
of  which  she  kept  me  in  ignorance  as  long  as  she 
could,  not  wishing  to  unnecessarily  worry  me.  At 
last  she  decided  to  place  the  whole  matter  before 
me,  and  I  agreed  with  her  that  it  would  be  best  to 
satisfy  the  man's  demands. 

"  I  then  wrote  to  that  individual  whose  name 
I  do  not  wish  to  disclose,  addressing  the  letter,  as 
my  wife  directed  me  to  do,  to  the  Brighton  post 
office,  saying  that  I  was  ready  to  pay  the  £10,000 


230         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

to  him,  at  any  place  or  time  and  in  what  manner 
he  might  appoint.  I  received  a  reply  which  bore 
the  Brighton  postmark,  and  which  desired  me  to 
be  outside  Furnival's,  the  draper's,  in  West  Street, 
at  9.30  on  the  morning  of  March  iyth,  and  to 
bring  the  money  (£10,000)  in  Bank  of  England 
notes. 

"  '  "  On  the  1 6th  my  wife  gave  me  a  cheque  for 
the  amount  and  I  cashed  it  at  her  bank — Bird's 
in  Fleet  Street.  At  half-past  nine  the  following 
morning  I  was  at  the  appointed  place.  An  in- 
dividual wearing  a  grey  overcoat,  bowler  hat,  and 
red  tie  accosted  me  by  name  and  requested  me  to 
walk  as  far  as  his  lodgings  in  the  King's  Parade. 
I  followed  him.  Neither  of  us  spoke.  He 
stopped  at  a  house  which  bore  the  name  '  Russell 
House,'  and  which  I  shall  be  able  to  swear  to  as 
soon  as  I  am  able  to  go  out.  He  let  himself  in 
with  a  latch-key,  and  asked  me  to  follow  him  up 
to  his  room  on  the  third  floor.  I  thought  I 
noticed  when  we  were  in  the  room  that  he  locked 
the  door;  however,  I  had  nothing  of  any  value 
about  me  except  the  £10,000,  which  I  was  ready 
to  give  him.  We  had  not  exchanged  the  slightest 
word. 

"  * "  I  gave  him  the  notes,  and  he  folded  them 
and  put  them  in  his  pocket-book.  Then  I  turned 
towards  the  door,  and,  without  the  slightest  warn- 
ing, I  felt  myself  suddenly  gripped  by  the  shoulder, 
while  a  handkerchief  was  pressed  to  my  nose  and 


THE    PRISONER  231 

mouth.  I  struggled  as  best  I  could,  but  the  hand- 
kerchief was  saturated  with  chloroform,  and  I 
soon  lost  consciousness.  I  hazily  remember  the 
man  saying  to  me  in  short,  jerky  sentences,  spoken 
at  intervals  while  I  was  still  weakly  struggling: 

"  '  "  '  What  a  fool  you  must  think  me,  my  dear 
sir!  Did  you  really  think  that  I  was  going  to  let 
you  quietly  walk  out  of  here,  straight  to  the  police- 
station,  eh?  Such  dodges  have  been  done  before, 
I  know,  when  a  man's  silence  has  to  be  bought  for 
money.  Find  out  who  he  is,  see  where  he  lives, 
give  him  the  money,  then  inform  against  him. 
No  you  don't!  not  this  time.  I  am  off  to  the 
Continong  with  this  £10,000,  and  I  can  get  to 
Newhaven  in  time  for  the  midday  boat,  so  you'll 
have  to  keep  quiet  until  I  am  the  other  side  of 
the  Channel,  my  friend.  You  won't  be  much  in- 
convenienced; my  landlady  will  hear  your  groans 
presently  and  release  you,  so  you'll  be  all  right. 
There,  now,  drink  this — that's  better.'  He 
forced  something  bitter  down  my  throat,  then  I 
remember  nothing  more. 

"  When  I  regained  consciousness  I  was  sit- 
ting in  an  arm-chair  with  some  rope  tied  round 
me  and  a  wool  shawl  round  my  mouth.  I  hadn't 
the  strength  to  make  the  slightest  effort  to  disen- 
tangle myself  or  to  utter  a  scream.  I  felt  terribly 
sick  and  faint." 

"  Mr.  Reginald  Pepys  had  finished  reading,  and 
no  one  in  the  crowded  court  had  thought  of  utter- 


232         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

ing  a  sound;  the  magistrate's  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  handsome  lady  in  the  magnificent  gown,  who 
was  mopping  her  eyes  with  a  dainty  lace  handker- 
chief. 

"  The  extraordinary  narrative  of  the  victim  of 
so  daring  an  outrage  had  kept  everyone  in  sus- 
pense; one  thing  was  still  expected  to  make  the 
measure  of  sensation  as  full  as  it  had  ever  been 
over  any  criminal  case,  and  that  was  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton's evidence.  She  was  called  by  the  prosecuting 
counsel,  and  slowly,  gracefully,  she  entered  the 
witness-box.  There  was  no  doubt  that  she  had 
felt  keenly  the  tortures  which  her  husband  had 
undergone,  and  also  the  humiliation  of  seeing  her 
name  dragged  forcibly  into  this  ugly,  blackmailing 
scandal. 

"  Closely  questioned  by  Mr.  Reginald  Pepys, 
she  was  forced  to  admit  that  the  man  who  black- 
mailed her  was  connected  with  her  early  life  in  a 
way  which  would  have  brought  terrible  disgrace 
upon  her  and  upon  her  children.  The  story  she 
told,  amidst  many  tears  and  sobs,  and  much  use 
of  her  beautiful  lace  handkerchief  and  beringed 
hands,  was  exceedingly  pathetic. 

"  It  appears  that  when  she  was  barely  seventeen 
she  was  inveigled  into  a  secret  marriage  with  one 
of  those  foreign  adventurers  who  swarm  in  every 
country,  and  who  styled  himself  Comte  Armand 
de  la  Tremouille.  He  seems  to  have  been  a  black- 
guard of  unusually  low  pattern,  for,  after  he  had 


THE   PRISONER  233 

extracted  from  her  some  £200  of  her  pin  money 
and  a  few  diamond  brooches,  he  left  her  one  fine 
day  with  a  laconic  word  to  say  that  he  was  sail- 
ing for  Europe  by  the  Argentina,  and  would  not 
be  back  for  some  time.  She  was  in  love  with  the 
brute,  poor  young  soul,  for  when,  a  week  later, 
she  read  that  the  Argentina  was  wrecked,  and 
presumably  every  soul  on  board  had  perished,  she 
wept  very  many  bitter  tears  over  her  early  widow- 
hood. 

"  Fortunately  her  father,  a  very  wealthy  pork- 
butcher  of  Chicago,  had  known  nothing  of  his 
daughter's  culpable  foolishness.  Four  years  later 
he  took  her  to  London,  where  she  met  Mr.  Francis 
Morton  and  married  him.  She  led  six  or  seven 
years  of  very  happy  married  life  when  one  day, 
like  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear,  blue  sky,  she  re- 
ceived a  typewritten  letter,  signed  '  Armand  de  la 
Tremouille,'  full  of  protestations  of  undying  love, 
telling  a  long  and  pathetic  tale  of  years  of  suffer- 
ing in  a  foreign  land,  whither  he  had  drifted  after 
having  been  rescued  almost  miraculously  from  the 
wreck  of  the  Argentina,  and  where  he  never  had 
been  able  to  scrape  a  sufficient  amount  of  money  to 
pay  for  his  passage  home.  At  last  fate  had  fa- 
voured him.  He  had,  after  many  vicissitudes, 
found  the  whereabouts  of  his  dear  wife,  and  was 
now  ready  to  forgive  all  that  was  past  and  take 
her  to  his  loving  arms  once  again. 

"What  followed  was  the  usual  course  of  events 


234         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

when  there  is  a  blackguard  and  a  fool  of  a  woman. 
She  was  terrorised  and  did  not  dare  to  tell  her 
husband  for  some  time ;  she  corresponded  with  the 
Comte  de  la  Tremouille,  begging  him  for  her  sake 
and  in  memory  of  the  past  not  to  attempt  to  see 
her.  She  found  him  amenable  to  reason  in  the 
shape  of  several  hundred  pounds  which  passed 
through  the  Brighton  post  office  into  his  hands. 
At  last  one  day,  by  accident,  Mr.  Morton  came 
across  one  of  the  Comte  de  la  Tremouille's  inter- 
esting letters.  She  confessed  everything,  throw- 
ing herself  upon  her  husband's  mercy. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Francis  Morton  was  a  business 
man,  who  viewed  life  practically  and  soberly. 
He  liked  his  wife,  who  kept  him  in  luxury,  and 
wished  to  keep  her,  whereas  the  Comte  de  la 
Tremouille  seemed  willing  enough  to  give  her  up 
for  a  consideration.  Mrs.  Morton,  who  had  the 
sole  and  absolute  control  of  her  fortune,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  willing  enough  to  pay  the  price 
and  hush  up  the  scandal,  which  she  believed — - 
since  she  was  a  bit  of  a  fool — would  land  her  in 
prison  for  bigamy.  Mr.  Francis  Morton  wrote 
to  the  Comte  de  la  Tremouille  that  his  wife  was 
ready  to  pay  him  the  sum  of  £10,000  which  he 
demanded  in  payment  for  her  absolute  liberty  and 
his  own  complete  disappearance  out  of  her  life 
now  and  for  ever.  The  appointment  was  made, 
and  Mr.  Morton  left  his  house  at  9  a.  m.  on 
March  I7th  with  the  £10,000  in  his  pocket. 


THE   PRISONER  235 

"The  public  and  the  magistrate  had  hung 
breathlessly  upon  her  words.  There  was  nothing 
but  sympathy  felt  for  this  handsome  woman,  who 
throughout  had  been  more  sinned  against  than 
sinning,  and  whose  gravest  fault  seems  to  have 
been  a  total  lack  of  intelligence  in  dealing  with  her 
own  life.  But  I  can  assure  you  of  one  thing,  that 
in  no  case  within  my  recollection  was  there  ever 
such  a  sensation  in  a  court  as  when  the  magistrate, 
after  a  few  minutes'  silence,  said  gently  to  Mrs. 
Morton : 

u  '  And  now,  Mrs.  Morton,  will  you  kindly  look 
at  the  prisoner,  and  tell  me  if  in  him  you  recognise 
your  former  husband  ?  ' 

"  And  she,  without  even  turning  to  look  at  the 
accused,  said  quietly: 

'  Oh,  no !  your  Honour  I  of  course  that  man  is 
not  the  Comte  de  la  Tremouille.' " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A  SENSATION 

"  I  CAN  assure  you  that  the  situation  was  quite 
dramatic,"  continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  whilst 
his  funny,  claw-like  hands  took  up  a  bit  of  string 
with  renewed  feverishness. 

"  In  answer  to  further  questions  from  the  mag- 
istrate, she  declared  that  she  had  never  seen  the 
accused ;  he  might  have  been  the  go-between,  how- 
ever, that  she  could  not  say.  The  letters  she  re- 
ceived were  all  typewritten,  but  signed  *  Armand 
de  la  Tremouille,'  and  certainly  the  signature  was 
identical  with  that  on  the  letters  she  used  to  re- 
ceive from  him  years  ago,  all  of  which  she  had 
kept. 

*  And  did  it  never  strike  you,'  asked  the  mag- 
istrate with  a  smile,  '  that  the  letters  you  received 
might  be  forgeries? ' 

"  'How  could  they  be?'  she  replied  decisively; 
'  no  one  knew  of  my  marriage  to  the  Comte  de  la 
Tremouille,  no  one  in  England  certainly.  And, 
besides,  if  someone  did  know  the  Comte  inti- 
mately enough  to  forge  his  handwriting  and  to 
blackmail  me,  why  should  that  someone  have 
waited  all  these  years?  I  have  been  married 
seven  years,  your  Honour.' 

236 


A  SENSATION  237 

"That  was  true  enough,  and  there  the  matter 
rested  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  But  the 
identity  of*Mr.  Francis  Morton's  assailant  had  to 
be  finally  established,  of  course,  before  the  prisoner 
was  committed  for  trial.  Dr.  Mellish  promised 
that  Mr.  Morton  would  be  allowed  to  come  to 
court  for  half  an  hour  and  identify  the  accused  on 
the  following  day,  and  the  case  was  adjourned  un- 
til then.  The  accused  was  led  away  between  two 
constables,  bail  being  refused,  and  Brighton  had 
perforce  to  moderate  its  impatience  until  the 
Wednesday. 

"  On  that  day  the  court  was  crowded  to  over- 
flowing; actors,  playwrights,  literary  men  of  all 
sorts  had  fought  for  admission  to  study  for  them- 
selves the  various  phases  and  faces  in  connection 
with  the  case.  Mrs.  Morton  was  not  present 
when  the  prisoner,  quiet  and  self-possessed,  was 
brought  in  and  placed  in  the  dock.  His  solicitor 
was  with  him,  and  a  sensational  defence  was  ex- 
pected. 

"  Presently  there  was  a  stir  in  the  court,  and 
that  certain  sound,  half  rustle,  half  sigh,  which 
preludes  an  expected  palpitating  event.  Mr. 
Morton,  pale,  thin,  wearing  yet  in  his  hollow  eyes 
the  stamp  of  those  five  days  of  suffering,  walked 
into  court  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  doctor — Mrs. 
Morton  was  not  with  him. 

"He  was  at  once  accommodated  with  a  chair 
in  the  witness-box,  and  the  magistrate,  after  a 


238         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

few  words  of  kindly  sympathy,  asked  him  if  he 
had  anything  to  add  to  his  written  statement. 
On  Mr.  Morton  replying  in  the  negative,  the 
magistrate  added: 

;  *  And  now,  Mr.  Morton,  will  you  kindly  look 
at  the  accused  in  the  dock  and  tell  me  whether 
you  recognise  the  person  who  took  you  to  the  room 
in  Russell  House  and  then  assaulted  you  ? ' 

"  Slowly  the  sick  man  turned  towards  the 
prisoner  and  looked  at  him;  then  he  shook  his 
head  and  replied  quietly: 

'  'No,  sir;  that  certainly  was  not  the  man.' 

*  You  are  quite  sure  ? '  asked  the  magistrate 
in  amazement,  while  the  crowd  literally  gasped 
with  wonder. 

1 1 1  swear  it,'  asserted  Mr.  Morton. 
'  Can  you  describe  the  man   who   assaulted 
you?" 

'  Certainly.  He  was  dark,  of  swarthy  com- 
plexion, tall,  thin,  with  bushy  eyebrows  and  thick 
black  hair  and  short  beard.  He  spoke  English 
with  just  the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  foreign  accent.' 

"  The  prisoner,  as  I  told  you  before,  was  Eng- 
lish in  every  feature.  English  in  his  ruddy  com- 
plexion, and  absolutely  English  in  his  speech. 

"After  that  the  case  for  the  prosecution  began 
to  collapse.  Everyone  had  expected  a  sensational 
defence,  and  Mr.  Matthew  Quiller,  counsel  for 
Skinner,  fully  justified  all  these  expectations.  He 
had  no  fewer  than  four  witnesses  present  who 


A  SENSATION  239 

swore  positively  that  at  9.45  a.  m.  on  the  morning 
of  Wednesday,  March  i7th,  the  prisoner  was  in 
the  express  train  leaving  Brighton  for  Victoria. 

"  Not  being  endowed  with  the  gift  of  being  in 
two  places  at  once,  and  Mr.  Morton  having  added 
the  whole  weight  of  his  own  evidence  in  Mr. 
Edward  Skinner's  favour,  that  gentleman  was 
once  more  remanded  by  the  magistrate,  pending 
further  investigation  by  the  police,  bail  being  al- 
lowed this  time  in  two  sureties  of  £50  each." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

TWO   BLACKGUARDS 

"  TELL  me  what  you  think  of  it,"  said  the  man  in 
the  corner,  seeing  that  Polly  remained  silent  and 
puzzled. 

"  Well,"  she  replied  dubiously,  "  I  suppose  that 
the  so-called  Armand  de  la  Tremouille's  story  was 
true  in  substance.  That  he  did  not  perish  on  the 
Argentina,  but  drifted  home,  and  blackmailed  his 
former  wife." 

"  Doesn't  it  strike  you  that  there  are  at  least 
two  very  strong  points  against  that  theory?"  he 
asked,  making  two  gigantic  knots  in  his  piece  of 
string. 

"Two?" 

"Yes.  In  the  first  place,  if  the  blackmailer 
was  the  l  Comte  de  la  Tremouille '  returned  to  life, 
why  should  he  have  been  content  to  take  £10,000 
from  a  lady  who  was  his  lawful  wife,  and  who 
could  keep  him  in  luxury  for  the  rest  of  his  natural 
life  upon  her  large  fortune,  which  was  close  upon 
a  quarter  of  a  million.  The  real  Comte  de  la 
Tremouille,  remember,  had  never  found  it  difficult 
to  get  money  out  of  his  wife  during  their  brief 
married  life,  whatever  Mr.  Morton's  subsequent 

240 


TWO   BLACKGUARDS  241 

experience  in  the  same  direction  might  have  been. 
And,  secondly,  why  should  he  have  typewritten 
his  letters  to  his  wife?  " 

"  Because " 

"  That  was  a  point  which,  to  my  mind,  the 
police  never  made  the  most  of.  Now,  my  experi- 
ence in  criminal  cases  has  invariably  been  that 
when  a  typewritten  letter  figures  in  one,  that  letter 
is  a  forgery.  It  is  not  very  difficult  to  imitate  a 
signature,  but  it  is  a  jolly  sight  more  difficult  to 
imitate  a  handwriting  throughout  an  entire  letter." 

"  Then,  do  you  think " 

"  I  think,  if  you  will  allow  me,"  he  interrupted 
excitedly,  "  that  we  will  go  through  the  points — • 
the  sensible,  tangible  points  of  the  case.  Firstly: 
Mr.  Morton  disappears  with  £10,000  in  his 
pocket  for  four  entire  days;  at  the  end  of  that 
time  he  is  discovered  loosely  tied  to  an  arm-chair, 
and  a  wool  shawl  round  his  mouth.  Secondly:  A 
man  named  Skinner  is  accused  of  the  outrage. 
Mr.  Morton,  although  he  himself  is  able,  mind 
you,  to  furnish  the  best  defence  possible  for  Skin- 
ner, by  denying  his  identity  with  the  man  who 
assaulted  him,  refuses  to  prosecute.  Why?  " 

"  He  did  not  wish  to  drag  his  wife's  name  into 
the  case." 

"  He  must  have  known  that  the  Crown  would 
take  up  the  case.  Then,  again,  how  is  it  no  one 
saw  him  in  the  company  of  the  swarthy  foreigner 
he  described?" 


242         THE   MAN1  IN   THE   CORNER 

"Two  witnesses  did  see  Mr.  Morton  in  com- 
pany with  Skinner,"  argued  Polly. 

'  Yes,  at  9.20  in  West  Street;  that  would  give 
Edward  Skinner  time  to  catch  the  9.45  at  the 
station,  and  to  intrust  Mr.  Morton  with  the  latch- 
key of  Russell  House,"  remarked  my  companion 
drily. 

"  What  nonsense ! "  I  ejaculated. 

"Nonsense,  is  it?"  he  said,  tugging  wildly  at 
his  bit  of  string;  "is  it  nonsense  to  affirm  that  if 
a  man  wants  to  make  sure  that  his  victim  shall  not 
escape,  he  does  not  usually  wind  rope  '  loosely  * 
round  his  figure,  nor  does  he  throw  a  wool  shawl 
lightly  round  his  mouth.  The  police  were  idiotic 
beyond  words;  they  themselves  discovered  that 
Morton  was  so  '  loosely '  fastened  to  his  chair  that 
very  little  movement  would  have  disentangled 
him,  and  yet  it  never  struck  them  that  nothing 
was  easier  for  that  particular  type  of  scoundrel  to 
sit  down  in  an  arm-chair  and  wind  a  few  yards 
of  rope  round  himself,  then,  having  wrapped  a 
wool  shawl  round  his  throat,  to  slip  his  two  arms 
inside  the  ropes." 

"  But  what  object  would  a  man  in  Morton's 
position  have  for  playing  such  extraordinary 
pranks?  " 

"Ah,  the  motive!  There  you  are!  What  do 
I  always  tell  you  ?  Seek  the  motive !  Now,  what 
was  Mr.  Morton's  position?  He  was  the  hus- 
band of  a  lady  who  owned  a  quarter  of  a  million 


TWO   BLACKGUARDS  243 

of  money,  not  one  penny  of  which  he  could  touch 
without  her  consent,  as  it  was  settled  on  herself, 
and  who,  after  the  terrible  way  in  which  she  had 
been  plundered  and  then  abandoned  in  her  early 
youth,  no  doubt  kept  a  very  tight  hold  upon  the 
purse-strings.  Mr.  Morton's  subsequent  life  has 
proved  that  he  had  certain  expensive,  not  alto- 
gether avowable,  tastes.  One  day  he  discovers 
the  old  love  letters  of  the  *  Comte  Armand  de  la 
Tremouille.' 

;<  Then  he  lays  his  plans :  He  typewrites  a  let- 
ter, forges  the  signature  of  the  erstwhile  Count, 
and  awaits  events.  The  fish  does  rise  to  the  bait. 
He  gets  sundry  bits  of  money,  and  his  success 
makes  him  daring.  He  looks  round  him  for  an 
accomplice — clever,  unscrupulous,  greedy — and 
selects  Mr.  Edward  Skinner,  probably  some 
former  pal  of  his  wild  oats  days. 

"  The  plan  was  very  neat,  you  must  confess. 
Mr.  Skinner  takes  the  room  in  Russell  House,  and 
studies  all  the  manners  and  customs  of  his  land- 
lady and  her  servant.  He  then  draws  the  full  at- 
tention of  the  police  upon  himself.  He  meets 
Morton  in  West  Street,  then  disappears  osten- 
sibly after  the  '  assault.'  In  the  meanwhile  Mor- 
ton goes  to  Russell  House.  He  walks  upstairs, 
talks  loudly  in  the  room,  then  makes  elaborate 
preparations  for  his  comedy." 

"  Why !  he  nearly  died  of  starvation !  " 

11  That,  I  daresay,  was  not  a  part  of  his  reckon- 


244         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

ing.  He  thought,  no  doubt,  that  Mrs.  Chapman 
or  the  servant  would  discover  and  rescue  him 
pretty  soon.  He  meant  to  appear  just  a  little 
faint,  and  endured  quietly  the  first  twenty-four 
hours  of  inanition.  But  the  excitement  and  want 
of  food  told  on  him  more  than  he  expected. 
After  twenty-four  hours  he  turned  very  giddy  and 
sick,  and,  falling  from  one  fainting  fit  into  an- 
other, was  unable  to  give  the  alarm. 

"  However,  he  is  all  right  again  now,  and  con- 
cludes his  part  of  a  downright  blackguard  to  per- 
fection. Under  the  plea  that  his  conscience  does 
not  allow  him  to  live  with  a  lady  whose  first  hus- 
band is  still  alive,  he  has  taken  a  bachelor  flat  in 
London,  and  only  pays  afternoon  calls  on  his  wife 
in  Brighton.  But  presently  he  will  tire  of  his 
bachelor  life,  and  will  return  to  his  wife.  And 
I'll  guarantee  that  the  Comte  de  la  Tremouille  will 
never  be  heard  of  again." 

And  that  afternoon  the  man  in  the  corner  left 
Miss  Polly  Burton  alone  with  a  couple  of  photos 
of  two  uninteresting,  stodgy,  quiet-looking  men — . 
Morton  and  Skinner — who,  if  the  old  scarecrow 
was  right  in  his  theories,  were  a  pair  of  the  finest 
blackguards  unhung. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE  REGENT'S  PARK  MURDER 

BY  this  time  Miss  Polly  Burton  had  become  quite 
accustomed  to  her  extraordinary  vis-a-vis  in  the 
corner. 

He  was  always  there,  when  she  arrived,  in  the 
self-same  corner,  dressed  in  one  of  his  remarkable 
check  tweed  suits;  he  seldom  said  good-morning, 
and  invariably  when  she  appeared  he  began  to 
fidget  with  increased  nervousness,  with  some  tat- 
tered and  knotty  piece  of  string. 

"Were  you  ever  interested  in  the  Regent's  Park 
murder?  "  he  asked  her  one  day. 

Polly  replied  that  she  had  forgotten  most  of 
the  particulars  connected  with  that  curious  murder, 
but  that  she  fully  remembered  the  stir  and  flutter 
it  had  caused  in  a  certain  section  of  London 
Society. 

'The  racing  and  gambling  set,  particularly, 
you  mean,"  he  said.  "All  the  persons  implicated 
in  the  murder,  directly  or  indirectly,  were  of  the 
type  commonly  called  '  Society  men,'  or  '  men 
about  town,'  whilst  the  Harewood  Club  in  Han- 
over Square,  round  which  centred  all  the  scandal 
in  connection  with  the  murder,  was  one  of  the 
smartest  clubs  in  London. 

245 


246         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Probably  the  doings  of  the  Harewood  Club, 
which  was  essentially  a  gambling  club,  would  for 
ever  have  remained  '  officially '  absent  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  police  authorities  but  for  the 
murder  in  the  Regent's  Park  and  the  revelations 
which  came  to  light  in  connection  with  it. 

"  I  daresay  you  know  the  quiet  square  which 
lies  between  Portland  Place  and  the  Regent's! 
Park  and  is  called  Park  Crescent  at  its  south  end, 
and  subsequently  Park  Square  East  and  West. 
The  Marylebone  Road,  with  all  its  heavy  traffic, 
cuts  straight  across  the  large  square  and  its  pretty 
gardens,  but  the  latter  are  connected  together  by  a 
tunnel  under  the  road;  and  of  course  you  must 
remember  that  the  new  tube  station  in  the  south 
portion  of  the  Square  had  not  yet  been  planned. 

"  February  6th,  1907,  was  a  very  foggy  night, 
nevertheless  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen,  of  30  Park 
Square  West,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  hav- 
ing finally  pocketed  the  heavy  winnings  which  he 
had  just  swept  off  the  green  table  of  the  Hare- 
wood  Club,  started  to  walk  home  alone.  An  hour 
later  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Park  Square  West 
were  aroused  from  their  peaceful  slumbers  by  the 
sounds  of  a  violent  altercation  in  the  road.  A 
man's  angry  voice  was  heard  shouting  violently 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  was  followed  imme- 
diately by  frantic  screams  of  '  Police '  and  *  Mur- 
der.' Then  there  was  the  double  sharp  report  of 
firearms,  and  nothing  more. 


THE   REGENT'S    PARK   MURDER      247 

"  The  fog  was  very  dense,  and,  as  you  no  doubt 
have  experienced  yourself,  it  is  very  difficult  to 
locate  sound  in  a  fog.  Nevertheless,  not  more 
than  a  minute  or  two  had  elapsed  before  Con- 
stable F  1 8,  the  point  policeman  at  the  corner  of 
Marylebone  Road,  arrived  on  the  scene,  and,  hav- 
ing first  of  all  whistled  for  any  of  his  comrades 
on  the  beat,  began  to  grope  his  way  about  in  the 
fog,  more  confused  than  effectually  assisted  by 
contradictory  directions  from  the  inhabitants  of 
the  houses  close  by,  who  were  nearly  falling  out 
of  the  upper  windows  as  they  shouted  out  to  the 
constable. 

'  By  the  railings,  policeman.' 

"  '  Higher  up  the  road.' 
;  *  No,  lower  down.' 

'  It  was  on  this  side  of  the  pavement  I  am 
sure.' 

'"No,  the  other.' 

"  At  last  it  was  another  policeman,  F  22,  who, 
turning  into  Park  Square  West  from  the  north 
side,  almost  stumbled  upon  the  body  of  a  man 
lying  on  the  pavement  with  his  head  against  the 
railings  of  the  Square.  By  this  time  quite  a  little 
crowd  of  people  from  the  different  houses  in  the 
road  had  come  down,  curious  to  know  what  had 
actually  happened. 

"The  policeman  turned  the  strong  light  of 
his  bull's-eye  lantern  on  the  unfortunate  man's 
face. 


"  '  It  looks  as  if  he  had  been  strangled,  don't 
it?'  he  murmured  to  his  comrade. 

"And  he  pointed  to  the  swollen  tongue,  the 
eyes  half  out  of  their  sockets,  blood-shot  and  con- 
gested, the  purple,  almost  black,  hue  of  the  face. 

"At  this  point  one  of  the  spectators,  more 
callous  to  horrors,  peered  curiously  into  the  dead 
man's  face.  He  uttered  an  exclamation  of  aston- 
ishment. 

"'Why,  surely,  it's  Mr.  Cohen  from  No.  30!' 

"  The  mention  of  a  name  familiar  down  the 
length  of  the  street  had  caused  two  or  three  other 
men  to  come  forward  and  to  look  more  closely 
into  the  horribly  distorted  mask  of  the  murdered 
man. 

*  Our  next  door  neighbour,  undoubtedly,'  as- 
serted Mr.  Ellison,  a  young  barrister,  residing  at 
No.  31. 

'  What  in  the  world  was  he  doing  this  foggy 
night  all  alone,  and  on  foot  ? '  asked  somebody 
else. 

'  He  usually  came  home  very  late.  I  fancy 
he  belonged  to  some  gambling  club  in  town.  I 
daresay  he  couldn't  get  a  cab  to  bring  him  out 
here.  Mind  you,  I  don't  know  much  about  him. 
We  only  knew  him  to  nod  to.' 

" '  Poor  beggar !  it  looks  almost  like  an  old- 
fashioned  case  of  garrotting.' 

" '  Anyway,  the  blackguardly  murderer,  who- 
ever he  was,  wanted  to  make  sure  he  had  killed 


Pi1 

'l<"  rn|  i  j 
"  '  IT  LOOKS  AS  IF  HE  HAD  BEEN   STRANGLED  *  '* 


THE   REGENT'S    PARK   MURDER      249 

his  manl'  added  Constable  F  18,  as  he  picked 
up  an  object  from  the  pavement.  'Here's  the 
revolver,  with  two  cartridges  missing.  :You  gen- 
tlemen heard  the  report  just  now? ' 

"  '  He  don't  seem  to  have  hit  him  though.  The 
poor  bloke  was  strangled,  no  doubt.' 

"  *  And  tried  to  shoot  at  his  assailant  obviously,' 
asserted  the  young  barrister  with  authority. 

*  If  he  succeeded  in  hitting  the  brute,  there 
might  be  a  chance  of  tracing  the  way  he 
went.' 

"  *  But  not  in  the  fog.' 

"  Soon,  however,  the  appearance  of  the  inspec- 
tor, detective,  and  medical  officer,  who  had  quickly 
been  informed  of  the  tragedy,  put  an  end  to  fur- 
ther discussion. 

"  The  bell  at  No.  30  was  rung,  and  the  servants 
— all  four  of  them  women — were  asked  to  look  at 
the  body. 

"  Amidst  tears  of  horror  and  screams  of  fright, 
they  all  recognised  in  the  murdered  man  their 
master,  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen.  He  was  therefore 
conveyed  to  his  own  room  pending  the  coroner's 
inquest." 

"  The  police  had  a  pretty  difficult  task,  you  will 
admit;  there  were  so  very  few  indications  to  go 
by,  and  at  first  literally  no  clue. 

"  The  inquest  revealed  practically  nothing. 
Very  little  was  known  in  the  neighbourhood  about 
Mr.  Aaron  Cohen  and  his  affairs.  His  female 


250         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

servants  did  not  even  know  the  name  or  where- 
abouts of  the  various  clubs  he  frequented. 

"  He  had  an  office  in  Throgmorton  Street  and 
went  to  business  every  day.  He  dined  at  home, 
and  sometimes  had  friends  to  dinner.  When  he 
was  alone  he  invariably  went  to  the  club,  where 
he  stayed  until  the  small  hours  of  the  morning. 

"The  night  of  the  murder  he  had  gone  out  at 
about  nine  o'clock.  That  was  the  last  his  servants 
had  seen  of  him.  With  regard  to  the  revolver, 
all  four  servants  swore  positively  that  they  had 
never  seen  it  before,  and  that,  unless  Mr.  Cohen 
had  bought  it  that  very  day,  it  did  not  belong 
to  their  master. 

"  Beyond  that,  no  trace  whatever  of  the  mur- 
derer had  been  found,  but  on  the  morning  after 
the  crime  a  couple  of  keys  linked  together  by  a 
short  metal  chain  were  found  close  to  a  gate  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  Square,  that  which  imme- 
diately faced  Portland  Place.  These  were  proved 
to  be,  firstly,  Mr.  Cohen's  latch-key,  and,  secondly, 
his  gate-key  of  the  Square. 

"  It  was  therefore  presumed  that  the  murderer, 
having  accomplished  his  fell  design  and  ransacked 
his  victim's  pockets,  had  found  the  keys  and  made 
good  his  escape  by  slipping  into  the  Square,  cut- 
ting under  the  tunnel,  and  out  again  by  the  further 
gate.  He  then  took  the  precaution  not  to  carry 
the  keys  with  him  any  further,  but  threw  them 
away  and  disappeared  in  the  fog. 


THE    REGENT'S    PARK   MURDER      251 

"  The  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  wilful  murder 
against  some  person  or  persons  unknown,  and 
the  police  were  put  on  their  mettle  to  discover 
the  unknown  and  daring  murderer.  The  result 
of  their  investigations,  conducted  with  marvellous 
skill  by  Mr.  William  Fisher,  led,  about  a  week 
after  the  crime,  to  the  sensational  arrest  of  one  of 
London's  smartest  young  bucks. 

"The  case  Mr.  Fisher  had  got  up  against  the 
accused  briefly  amounted  to  this: 

"  On  the  night  of  February  6th,  soon  after  mid- 
night, play  began  to  run  very  high  at  the  Hare- 
wood  Club,  in  Hanover  Square.  Mr.  Aaron 
Cohen  held  the  bank  at  roulette  against  some 
twenty  or  thirty  of  his  friends,  mostly  young  fel- 
lows with  no  wits  and  plenty  of  money.  *  The 
Bank '  was  winning  heavily,  and  it  appears  that 
this  was  the  third  consecutive  night  on  which  Mr. 
Aaron  Cohen  had  gone  home  richer  by  several 
hundreds  than  he  had  been  at  the  start  of 
play. 

'  Young  John  Ashley,  who  is  the  son  of  a  very 
worthy  county  gentleman  who  is  M.  F.  H.  some- 
where in  the  Midlands,  was  losing  heavily,  and  in 
his  case  also  it  appears  that  it  was  the  third  con- 
secutive night  that  Fortune  had  turned  her  face 
against  him. 

"  Remember,"  continued  the  man  in  the  corner, 
"that  when  I  tell  you  all  these  details  and  facts, 
I  am  giving  you  the  combined  evidence  of  several 


252         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

witnesses,  which  it  took  many  days  to  collect  and 
to  classify. 

"It  appears  that  young  Mr.  Ashley,  though 
very  popular  in  society,  was  generally  believed  to 
be  in  what  is  vulgarly  termed  *  low  water ' ;  up  to 
his  eyes  in  debt,  and  mortally  afraid  of  his  dad, 
whose  younger  son  he  was,  and  who  had  on  one 
occasion  threatened  to  ship  him  off  to  Australia 
with  a  £5  note  in  his  pocket  if  he  made  any  fur- 
ther extravagant  calls  upon  his  paternal  indul- 
gence. 

"  It  was  also  evident  to  all  John  Ashley's  many 
companions  that  the  worthy  M.  F.  H.  held  the 
purse  strings  in  a  very  tight  grip.  The  young 
man,  bitten  with  the  desire  to  cut  a  smart  figure 
in  the  circles  in  which  he  moved,  had  often  re- 
course to  the  varying  fortunes  which  now  and 
again  smile  upon  him  across  the  green  tables  in 
the  Harewood  Club. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  general  concensus  of 
opinion  at  the  Club  was  that  young  Ashley  had 
changed  his  last  *  pony '  before  he  sat  down  to  a 
turn  of  roulette  with  Aaron  Cohen  on  that  partic- 
ular night  of  February  6th. 

"  It  appears  that  all  his  friends,  conspicuous 
among  whom  was  Mr.  Walter  Hatherell,  tried 
their  very  best  to  dissuade  him  from  pitting  his 
luck  against  that  of  Cohen,  who  had  been  having 
a  most  unprecedented  run  of  good  fortune.  But 
young  Ashley,  heated  with  wine,  exasperated  at 


THE    REGENT'S    PARK   MURDER      253 

his  own  bad  luck,  would  listen  to  no  one ;  he  tossed 
one  £5  note  after  another  on  the  board,  he  bor- 
rowed from  those  who  would  lend,  then  played  on 
•parole  for  a  while.  Finally,  at  half-past  one  in 
the  morning,  after  a  run  of  nineteen  on  the  red, 
the  young  man  found  himself  without  a  penny  in 
his  pockets,  and  owing  a  debt — a  gambling  debt — - 
a  debt  of  honour  of  £1500  to  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen. 

"  Now  we  must  render  this  much  maligned  gen- 
tleman that  justice  which  was  persistently  denied 
to  him  by  press  and  public  alike;  it  was  posi- 
tively asserted  by  all  those  present  that  Mr. 
Cohen  himself  repeatedly  tried  to  induce  young 
Mr.  Ashley  to  give  up  playing.  He  himself  was 
in  a  delicate  position  in  the  matter,  as  he  was 
the  winner,  and  once  or  twice  the  taunt  had  risen 
to  the  young  man's  lips,  accusing  the  holder  of  the 
bank  of  the  wish  to  retire  on  a  competence  before 
the  break  in  his  luck. 

"  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen,  smoking  the  best  of 
Havanas,  had  finally  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
said :  '  As  you  please ! ' 

"  But  at  half-past  one  he  had  had  enough  of 
the  player,  who  always  lost  and  never  paid — 
never  could  pay,  so  Mr.  Cohen  probably  believed. 
He  therefore  at  that  hour  refused  to  accept  Mr. 
John  Ashley's  '  promissory '  stakes  any  longer.  A 
very  few  heated  words  ensued,  quickly  checked  by 
the  management,  who  are  ever  on  the  alert  to 
avoid  the  least  suspicion  of  scandal. 


254         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

"  In  the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Hatherell,  with  great 
good  sense,  persuaded  young  Ashley  to  leave  the 
Club  and  all  its  temptations  and  go  home;  if  pos- 
sible to  bed. 

"  The  friendship  of  the  two  young  men,  which 
was  very  well  known  in  society,  consisted  chiefly, 
it  appears,  in  Walter  Hatherell  being  the  willing 
companion  and  helpmeet  of  John  Ashley  in  his 
mad  and  extravagant  pranks.  But  to-night  the 
latter,  apparently  tardily  sobered  by  his  terrible 
and  heavy  losses,  allowed  himself  to  be  led  away 
by  his  friend  from  the  scene  of  his  disasters.  It 
was  then  about  twenty  minutes  to  two. 

"  Here  the  situation  becomes  interesting,"  con- 
tinued the  man  in  the  corner  in  his  nervous  way. 
"  No  wonder  that  the  police  interrogated  at  least 
a  dozen  witnesses  before  they  were  quite  satisfied 
that  every  statement  was  conclusively  proved. 

"  Walter  Hatherell,  after  about  ten  minutes' 
absence,  that  is  to  say  at  ten  minutes  to  two,  re- 
turned to  the  club  room.  In  reply  to  several  in- 
quiries, he  said  that  he  had  parted  with  his  friend 
at  the  corner  of  New  Bond  Street,  since  he  seemed 
anxious  to  be  alone,  and  that  Ashley  said  he  would 
take  a  turn  down  Piccadilly  before  going  home — 
he  thought  a  walk  would  do  him  good. 

"At  two  o'clock  or  thereabouts  Mr.  Aaron 
Cohen,  satisfied  with  his  evening's  work,  gave  up 
his  position  at  the  bank  and,  pocketing  his  heavy 
winnings,  started  on  his  homeward  walk,  while 


THE    REGENT'S    PARK   MURDER      255 

Mr.  Walter  Hatherell  left  the  club  half  an  hour 
later. 

"  At  three  o'clock  precisely  the  cries  of  '  Mur- 
der '  and  the  report  of  firearms  were  heard  in 
Park  Square  West,  and  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen  was 
found  strangled  outside  the  garden  railings." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE   MOTIVE 

"Now  at  first  sight  the  murder  in  the  Regent's 
Park  appeared  both  to  police  and  public  as  one  of 
those  silly,  clumsy  crimes,  obviously  the  work  of 
a  novice  and  absolutely  purposeless,  seeing  that  it 
could  but  inevitably  lead  its  perpetrators,  without 
any  difficulty,  to  the  gallows. 

"  You  see,  a  motive  had  been  established. 
4  Seek  him  whom  the  crime  benefits,'  say  our 
French  confreres.  But  there  was  something  more 
than  that. 

41  Constable  James  Funnell,  on  his  beat,  turned 
from  Portland  Place  into  Park  Crescent  a  few 
minutes  after  he  had  heard  the  clock  at  Holy 
Trinity  Church,  Marylebone,  strike  half-past  two. 
The  fog  at  that  moment  was  perhaps  not  quite 
so  dense  as  it  was  later  on  in  the  morning,  and 
the  policeman  saw  two  gentlemen  in  overcoats  and 
top-hats  leaning  arm  in  arm  against  the  railings 
of  the  Square,  close  to  the  gate.  He  could  not, 
of  course,  distinguish  their  faces  because  of  the 
fog,  but  he  heard  one  of  them  saying  to  the  other: 

"  *  It  is  but  a  question  of  time,  Mr.  Cohen.  I 
know  my  father  will  pay  the  money  for  me,  and 
you  will  lose  nothing  by  waiting.' 

256 


THE   MOTIVE  257 

"To  this  the  other  apparently  made  no  reply, 
and  the  constable  passed  on;  when  he  returned  to 
the  same  spot,  after  having  walked  over  his  beat, 
the  two  gentlemen  had  gone,  but  later  on  it  was 
near  this  very  gate  that  the  two  keys  referred  to  at 
the  inquest  had  been  found. 

"  Another  interesting  fact,"  added  the  man  in 
the  corner,  with  one  of  those  sarcastic  smiles  of 
his  which  I  could  not  quite  explain,  "  was  the 
finding  of  the  revolver  upon  the  scene  of  the 
crime.  That  revolver,  shown  to  Mr.  Ashley's 
valet,  was  sworn  to  by  him  as  being  the  property 
of  his  master. 

"  All  these  facts  made,  of  course,  a  very  re- 
markable, so  far  quite  unbroken,  chain  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  against  Mr.  John  Ashley.  No 
wonder,  therefore,  that  the  police,  thoroughly  sat- 
isfied with  Mr.  Fisher's  work  and  their  own,  ap- 
plied for  a  warrant  against  the  young  man,  and 
arrested  him  in  his  rooms  in  Clarges  Street  exactly 
a  week  after  the  committal  of  the  crime. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  know,  experience  has 
invariably  taught  me  that  when  a  murderer  seems 
particularly  foolish  and  clumsy,  and  proofs  against 
him  seem  particularly  damning,  that  is  the  time 
when  the  police  should  be  most  guarded  against 
pitfalls. 

"  Now  in  this  case,  if  John  Ashley  had  indeed 
committed  the  murder  in  Regent's  Park  in  the 
manner  suggested  by  the  police,  he  would  have 


258         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

been  a  criminal  in  more  senses  than  one,  for 
idiocy  of  that  kind  is  to  my  mind  worse  than 
many  crimes. 

"  The  prosecution  brought  its  witnesses  up  in 
triumphal  array  one  after  another.  There  were 
the  members  of  the  Harewood  Club — who  had 
seen  the  prisoner's  excited  condition  after  his 
heavy  gambling  losses  to  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen ;  there 
was  Mr.  Hatherell,  who,  in  spite  of  his  friendship 
for  Ashley,  was  bound  to  admit  that  he  had  parted 
from  him  at  the  corner  of  Bond  Street  at  twenty 
minutes  to  two,  and  had  not  seen  him  again  till 
his  return  home  at  five  a.  m. 

"Then  came  the  evidence  of  Arthur  Chipps, 
John  Ashley's  valet.  It  proved  of  a  very  sensa- 
tional character. 

"He  deposed  that  on  the  night  in  question  his 
master  came  home  at  about  ten  minutes  to  two. 
Chipps  had  then  not  yet  gone  to  bed.  Five  min- 
utes later  Mr.  Ashley  went  out  again,  telling  the 
valet  not  to  sit  up  for  him.  Chipps  could  not 
say  at  what  time  either  of  the  young  gentlemen 
had  come  home. 

"  That  short  visit  home — presumably  to  fetch 
the  revolver — was  thought  to  be  very  important, 
and  Mr.  John  Ashley's  friends  felt  that  his  case 
was  practically  hopeless. 

"The  valet's  evidence  and  that  of  James  Fun- 
nell,  the  constable,  who  had  overheard  the  con- 
versation near  the  park  railings,  were  certainly  the 


THE    MOTIVE  259 

two  most  damning  proofs  against  the  accused.  I 
assure  you  I  was  having  a  rare  old  time  that  day. 
There  were  two  faces  in  court  to  watch  which  was 
the  greatest  treat  I  had  had  for  many  a  day.  One 
of  these  was  Mr.  John  Ashley's. 

"  Here's  his  photo — short,  dark,  dapper,  a  little 
'racy'  in  style,  but  otherwise  he  looks  a  son  of  a 
well-to-do  farmer.  He  was  very  quiet  and  placid 
in  court,  and  addressed  a  few  words  now  and 
again  to  his  solicitor.  He  listened  gravely,  and 
with  an  occasional  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  to  the 
recital  of  the  crime,  such  as  the  police  had  recon- 
structed it,  before  an  excited  and  horrified  audi- 
ence. 

"  Mr.  John  Ashley,  driven  to  madness  and 
frenzy  by  terrible  financial  difficulties,  had  first  of 
all  gone  home  in  search  of  a  weapon,  then  way- 
laid Mr.  Aaron  Cohen  somewhere  on  that  gentle- 
man's way  home.  The  young  man  had  begged 
for  delay.  Mr.  Cohen  perhaps  was  obdurate ;  but 
Ashley  followed  him  with  his  importunities  almost 
to  his  door. 

:<  There,  seeing  his  creditor  determined  at  last 
to  cut  short  the  painful  interview,  he  had  seized 
the  unfortunate  man  at  an  unguarded  moment 
from  behind,  and  strangled  him;  then,  fearing 
that  his  dastardly  work  was  not  fully  accom- 
plished, he  had  shot  twice  at  the  already  dead 
body,  missing  it  both  times  from  sheer  nervous 
excitement.  The  murderer  then  must  have 


260         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

emptied  his  victim's  pockets,  and,  finding  the  key 
of  the  garden,  thought  that  it  would  be  a  safe 
way  of  evading  capture  by  cutting  across  the 
squares,  under  the  tunnel,  and  so  through  the  more 
distant  gate  which  faced  Portland  Place. 

"  The  loss  of  the  revolver  was  one  of  those  un- 
foreseen accidents  which  a  retributive  Providence 
places  in  the  path  of  the  miscreant,  delivering  him 
by  his  own  act  of  folly  into  the  hands  of  human 
justice. 

"  Mr.  John  Ashley,  however,  did  not  appear 
the  least  bit  impressed  by  the  recital  of  his  crime. 
He  had  not  engaged  the  services  of  one  of  the 
most  eminent  lawyers,  expert  at  extracting  con- 
tradictions from  witnesses  by  skilful  cross-exam- 
inations— oh,  dear  me,  no !  he  had  been  contented 
with  those  of  a  dull,  prosy,  very  second-rate  limb 
of  the  law,  who,  as  he  called  his  witnesses,  was 
completely  innocent  of  any  desire  to  create  a  sen-« 
sation. 

"  He  rose  quietly  from  his  seat,  and,  amidst 
breathless  silence,  called  the  first  of  three  witnesses 
on  behalf  of  his  client.  He  called  three — but  he 
could  have  produced  twelve — gentlemen,  members 
of  the  Ashton  Club  in  Great  Portland  Street,  all 
of  whom  swore  that  at  three  o'clock  on  the  morn- 
ing of  February  6th,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  cries  of  '  Murder '  roused  the 
inhabitants  of  Park  Square  West,  and  the  crime 
was  being  committed,  Mr.  John  Ashley  was  sitting 


THE   MOTIVE  261 

quietly  in  the  club-rooms  of  the  Ashton  playing 
bridge  with  the  three  witnesses.  He  had  come  in 
a  few  minutes  before  three — as  the  hall  porter  of 
the  Club  testified — and  stayed  for  about  an  hour 
and  a  half. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  that  this  undoubted,  this 
fully  proved  alibi,  was  a  positive  bomb-shell  in  the 
stronghold  of  the  prosecution.  The  most  accom- 
plished criminal  could  not  possibly  be  in  two  places 
at  once,  and  though  the  Ashton  Club  transgresses 
in  many  ways  against  the  gambling  laws  of  our 
very  moral  country,  yet  its  members  belong  to  the 
best,  most  unimpeachable  classes  of  society.  Mr. 
Ashley  had  been  seen  and  spoken  to  at  the  very 
moment  of  the  crime  by  at  least  a  dozen  gentle- 
men whose  testimony  was  absolutely  above  sus- 
picion. 

"  Mr.  John  Ashley's  conduct  throughout  this 
astonishing  phase  of  the  inquiry  remained  per- 
fectly calm  and  correct.  It  was  no  doubt  the  con- 
sciousness of  being  able  to  prove  his  innocence 
with  such  absolute  conclusion  that  had  steadied  his 
nerves  throughout  the  proceedings. 

"  His  answers  to  the  magistrate  were  clear  and 
simple,  even  on  the  ticklish  subject  of  the  revolver. 
*  I  left  the  club,  sir,'  he  explained,  *  fully  deter- 
mined to  speak  with  Mr.  Cohen  alone  in  order  to 
ask  him  for  a  delay  in  the  settlement  of  my  debt 
to  him.  You  will  understand  that  I  should  not 
care  to  do  this  in  the  presence  of  other  gentlemen. 


262         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

I  went  home  for  a  minute  or  two — not  in  order  to 
fetch  a  revolver,  as  the  police  assert,  for  I  always 
carry  a  revolver  about  with  me  in  foggy 
weather — but  in  order  to  see  if  a  very  important 
business  letter  had  come  for  me  in  my  absence. 

"  *  Then  I  went  out  again,  and  met  Mr.  Aaron 
Cohen  not  far  from  the  Harewood  Club.  I 
walked  the  greater  part  of  the  way  with  him,  and 
our  conversation  was  of  the  most  amicable  char- 
acter. We  parted  at  the  top  of  Portland  Place, 
near  the  gate  of  the  Square,  where  the  policeman 
saw  us.  Mr.  Cohen  then  had  the  intention  of  cut- 
ting across  the  Square,  as  being  a  shorter  way  to 
his  own  house.  I  thought  the  Square  looked  dark 
and  dangerous  in  the  fog,  especially  as  Mr.  Cohen 
was  carrying  a  large  sum  of  money. 

"'We  had  a  short  discussion  on  the  subject, 
and  finally  I  persuaded  him  to  take  my  revolver, 
as  I  was  going  home  only  through  very  frequented 
streets,  and  moreover  carried  nothing  that  was 
worth  stealing.  After  a  little  demur  Mr.  Cohen 
accepted  the  loan  of  my  revolver,  and  that  is  how 
it  came  to  be  found  on  the  actual  scene  of  the 
crime;  finally  I  parted  from  Mr.  Cohen  a  very 
few  -minutes  after  I  had  heard  the  church  clock 
striking  a  quarter  before  three.  I  was  at  the  Ox- 
ford Street  end  of  Great  Portland  Street  at  five 
minutes  to  three,  and  it  takes  at  least  ten  minutes 
to  walk  from  where  I  was  to  the  Ashton  Club.* 

"This  explanation  was  all  the  more,  credible, 


THE   MOTIVE  263 

mind  you,  because  the  question  of  the  revolver 
had  never  been  very  satisfactorily  explained  by 
the  prosecution.  A  man  who  has  effectually 
strangled  his  victim  would  not  discharge  two  shots 
of  his  revolver  for,  apparently,  no  other  purpose 
than  that  of  rousing  the  attention  of  the  nearest 
passer-by.  It  was  far  more  likely  that  it  was  Mr. 
Cohen  who  shot — perhaps  wildly  into  the  air, 
when  suddenly  attacked  from  behind.  Mr.  Ash- 
ley's explanation  therefore  was  not  only  plausible, 
it  was  the  only  possible  one. 

"  You  will  understand,  therefore,  how  it  was 
that,  after  nearly  half  an  hour's  examination,  the 
magistrate,  the  police,  and  the  public  were  alike 
pleased  to  proclaim  that  the  accused  left  the  court 
without  a  stain  upon  his  character." 


CHAPTER   XXX 

FRIENDS 

"YES,"  interrupted  Polly  eagerly  since,  for  once, 
her  acumen  had  been  at  least  as  sharp  as  his,  "  but 
suspicion  of  that  horrible  crime  only  shifted  its 
taint  from  one  friend  to  another,  and,  of  course, 
I  know " 

"  But  that's  just  it,"  he  quietly  interrupted, 
"you  don't  know — Mr.  Walter  Hatherell,  of 
course,  you  mean.  So  did  everyone  else  at  once. 
The  friend,  weak  and  willing,  committing  a  crime 
on  behalf  of  his  cowardly,  yet  more  assertive 
friend  who  had  tempted  him  to  evil.  It  was  a 
good  theory;  and  was  held  pretty  generally,  I 
fancy,  even  by  the  police. 

"  I  say  '  even  '  because  they  worked  really  hard 
in  order  to  build  up  a  case  against  young  Hath- 
erell, but  the  great  difficulty  was  that  of  time. 
At  the  hour  when  the  policeman  had  seen  the  two 
men  outside  Park  Square  together,  Walter  Hath- 
erell was  still  sitting  in  the  Harewood  Club,  which 
he  never  left  until  twenty  minutes  to  two.  Had 
he  wished  to  waylay  and  rob  Aaron  Cohen  he 
would  have  not  waited  surely  till  the  time  when 
presumably  the  latter  would  already  have  reached 
home. 

264 


FRIENDS  265 

"  Moreover,  twenty  minutes  was  an  incredibly 
short  time  in  which  to  walk  from  Hanover  Square 
to  Regent's  Park  without  the  chance  of  cutting 
across  the  squares  to  look  for  a  man,  whose  where- 
abouts you  could  not  determine  to  within  twenty 
yards  or  so,  to  have  an  argument  with  him,  mur- 
der him,  and  ransack  his  pockets.  And  then  there 
was  the  total  absence  of  motive." 

"  But "  said  Polly  meditatively,  for  she  re- 
membered now  that  the  Regent's  Park  murder,  as 
it  had  been  popularly  called,  was  one  of  those 
which  had  remained  as  impenetrable  a  mystery  as 
any  other  crime  had  ever  been  in  the  annals  of  the 
police. 

The  man  in  the  corner  cocked  his  funny  bird- 
like  head  well  on  one  side  and  looked  at  me, 
highly  amused  evidently  at  my  perplexity. 

"  You  do  not  see  how  that  murder  was  com- 
mitted?" he  asked  with  a  grin. 

Polly  was  bound  to  admit  that  she  did  not. 

"  If  you  had  happened  to  have  been  in  Mr. 
John  Ashley's  predicament,"  he  persisted,  "you 
do  not  see  how  you  could  conveniently  have  done 
away  with  Mr.  Aaron  Cohen,  pocketed  his  win- 
nings, and  then  led  the  police  of  your  country  en- 
tirely by  the  nose,  by  proving  an  indisputable 
alibi?" 

"  I  could  not  arrange  conveniently,"  she  re- 
torted, "  to  be  in  two  different  places  half  a  mile 
apart  at  one  and  the  same  time." 


266         THE    MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

"  No  I     I  quite  admit  that  you  could  not  do  this 
unless  you  also  had  a  friend " 


"  A  friend  ?     But  you  say- 


"  I  say  that  I  admired  Mr.  John  Ashley,  for  his 
was  the  head  which  planned  the  whole  thing,  but 
he  could  not  have  accomplished  the  fascinating  and 
terrible  drama  without  the  help  of  willing  and 
able  hands." 

"  Even  then "  she  protested. 

"  Point  number  one,"  he  began  excitedly,  fidget- 
ing with  his  inevitable  piece  of  string.  "John 
Ashley  and  his  friend  Walter  Hatherell  leave  the 
club  together,  and  together  decide  on  the  plan  of 
campaign.  Hatherell  returns  to  the  club,  and 
Ashley  goes  to  fetch  the  revolver — the  revolver 
which  played  such  an  important  part  in  the  drama, 
but  not  the  part  assigned  to  it  by  the  police.  Now 
try  to  follow  Ashley  closely,  as  he  dogs  Aaron 
Cohen's  footsteps.  Do  you  believe  that  he  en- 
tered into  conversation  with  him?  That  he 
walked  by  his  side?  That  he  asked  for  delay? 
No !  He  sneaked  behind  him  and  caught  him  by 
the  throat,  as  the  garrotters  used  to  do  in  the  fog. 
Cohen  was  apoplectic,  and  Ashley  is  young  and 
powerful.  Moreover,  he  meant  to  kill " 

"  But  the  two  men  talked  together  outside  the 
Square  gates,"  protested  Polly,  "  one  of  whom  was 
Cohen,  and  the  other  Ashley." 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  jumping  up  in  his  seat 
like  a  monkey  on  a  stick,  "there  were  not  two 


FRIENDS  267 

men  talking  outside  the  Square  gates.  According 
to  the  testimony  of  James  Funnell,  the  constable, 
two  men  were  leaning  arm  in  arm  against  the  rail- 
ings and  one  man  was  talking." 

"  Then  you  think  that " 

"  At  the  hour  when  James  Funnell  heard  Holy 
Trinity  clock  striking  half-past  two  Aaron  Cohen 
was  already  dead.  Look  how  simple  the  whole 
thing  is,"  he  added  eagerly,  "  and  how  easy  after 
that — easy,  but  oh,  dear  me!  how  wonderfully, 
how  stupendously  clever.  As  soon  as  James  Fun- 
nel has  passed  on,  John  Ashley,  having  opened  the 
gate,  lifts  the  body  of  Aaron  Cohen  in  his  arms 
and  carries  him  across  the  Square.  The  Square  is 
deserted,  of  course,  but  the  way  is  easy  enough, 
and  we  must  presume  that  Ashley  had  been  in  it 
before.  Anyway,  there  was  no  fear  of  meeting 
anyone. 

"  In  the  meantime  Hatherell  has  left  the  Club: 
as  fast  as  his  athletic  legs  can  carry  him  he  rushes 
along  Oxford  Street  and  Portland  Place.  It  had 
been  arranged  between  the  two  miscreants  that  the 
Square  gate  should  be  left  on  the  latch. 

"  Close  on  Ashley's  heels  now,  Hatherell  too 
cuts  across  the  Square,  and  reaches  the  further  gate 
in  good  time  to  give  his  confederate  a  hand  in  dis- 
posing the  body  against  the  railings.  Then,  with- 
out another  instant's  delay,  Ashley  runs  back 
across  the  gardens,  straight  to  the  Ashton  Club, 
throwing  away  the  keys  of  the  dead  man,  on  the 


268         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

very  spot  where  he  had  made  it  a  point  of  being 
seen  and  heard  by  a  passer-by. 

"Hatherell  gives  his  friend  six  or  seven  min- 
utes' start,  then  he  begins  the  altercation  which  lasts 
two  or  three  minutes,  and  finally  rouses  the  neigh- 
bourhood with  cries  of  '  Murder '  and  report  of 
pistol  in  order  to  establish  that  the  crime  was  com- 
mitted at  the  hour  when  its  perpetrator  has  al- 
ready made  out  an  indisputable  alibi." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  think  of  it  all,  of 
course,"  added  the  funny  creature  as  he  fumbled 
for  his  coat  and  his  gloves,  "  but  I  call  the  plan- 
ning of  that  murder — on  the  part  of  novices  mind 
you — one  of  the  cleverest  pieces  of  strategy  I  have 
ever  come  across.  It  is  one  of  those  cases  when 
there  is  no  possibility  whatever  now  of  bringing 
the  crime  home  to  its  perpetrator  or  his  abettor. 
They  have  not  left  a  single  proof  behind  them; 
they  foresaw  everything,  and  each  acted  his  part 
with  a  coolness  and  courage  which,  applied  to  a 
great  and  good  cause,  would  have  made  fine  states- 
men of  them  both. 

"  As  it  is,  I  fear,  they  are  just  a  pair  of  young 
blackguards,  who  have  escaped  human  justice,  and 
have  only  deserved  the  full  and  ungrudging  ad- 
miration of  yours  very  sincerely." 

He  had  gone.  Polly  wanted  to  call  him  back, 
but  his  meagre  person  was  no  longer  visible 
through  the  glass  door.  There  were  many  things 


FRIENDS  269 

she  would  have  wished  to  ask  of  him — what  were 
his  proofs,  his  facts?  His  were  theories,  after 
all,  and  yet,  somehow,  she  felt  that  he  had  solved 
once  again  one  of  the  darkest  mysteries  of  great 
criminal  London. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE  DE  GENNEVILLE  PEERAGE 

THE  man  in  the  corner  rubbed  his  chin  thought- 
fully, and  looked  out  upon  the  busy  street  below. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  there  is  some  truth  in 
the  saying  that  Providence  watches  over  bank- 
rupts, kittens,  and  lawyers." 

"  I  didn't  know  there  was  such  a  saying," 
replied  Polly,  with  guarded  dignity. 

"Isn't  there?  Perhaps  I  am  misquoting;  any- 
way, there  should  be.  Kittens,  it  seems,  live  and 
thrive  through  social  and  domestic  upheavals 
which  would  annihilate  a  self-supporting  tom-cat,, 
and  to-day  I  read  in  the  morning  papers  the  ac- 
count of  a  noble  lord's  bankruptcy,  and  in  the  so- 
ciety ones  that  of  his  visit  at  the  house  of  a  Cabinet 
minister,  where  he  is  the  most  honoured  guest. 
As  for  lawyers,  when  Providence  had  exhausted 
all  other  means  of  securing  their  welfare,  it 
brought  forth  the  peerage  cases." 

"  I  believe,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  this  special 
dispensation  of  Providence,  as  you  call  it,  requires 
more  technical  knowledge  than  any  other  legal 
complication  that  comes  before  the  law  courts," 
she  said. 

270 


THE    DE    GENNEVILLE    PEERAGE       271 

"And  also  a  great  deal  more  money  in  the 
client's  pocket  than  any  other  complication.  Now, 
take  the  Brockelsby  peerage  case.  Have  you  any 
idea  how  much  money  was  spent  over  that  soap 
bubble,  which  only  burst  after  many  hundreds,  if 
not  thousands,  of  pounds  went  in  lawyers'  and 
counsels'  fees  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  a  great  deal  of  money  was  spent  on 
both  sides,"  she  replied,  "until  that  sudden,  aw- 
ful issue " 

"  Which  settled  the  dispute  effectually,"  he  in- 
terrupted with  a  dry  chuckle.  "  Of  course,  it  is 
very  doubtful  if  any  reputable  solicitor  would  have 
taken  up  the  case.  Timothy  Beddingfield,  the 
Birmingham  lawyer,  is  a  gentleman  who — well — 
has  had  some  misfortunes,  shall  we  say?  He  is 
still  on  the  rolls,  mind  you,  but  I  doubt  if  any  case 
would  have  its  chances  improved  by  his  conducting 
it.  Against  that  there  is  just  this  to  be  said,  that 
some  of  these  old  peerages  have  such  peculiar  his- 
tories, and  own  such  wonderful  archives,  that  a 
claim  is  always  worth  investigating — you  never 
know  what  may  be  the  rights  of  it. 

"  I  believe  that,  at  first,  everyone  laughed  over 
the  pretensions  of  the  Hon.  Robert  Ingram  de 
Genneville  to  the  joint  title  and  part  revenues  of 
the  old  barony  of  Genneville,  but,  obviously,  he 
might  have  got  his  case.  It  certainly  sounded  al- 
most like  a  fairy  tale,  this  claim  based  upon  the 
supposed  validity  of  an  ancient  document  over  400 


272         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

years  old.  It  was  then  that  a  mediaeval  Lord  de 
Genneville,  more  endowed  with  muscle  than  com- 
mon sense,  became  during  his  turbulent  existence 
much  embarrassed  and  hopelessly  puzzled  through 
the  presentation  made  to  him  by  his  lady  of  twin- 
born  sons. 

"  His  embarrassment  chiefly  arose  from  the  fact 
that  my  lady's  attendants,  while  ministering  to  the 
comforts  of  the  mother,  had,  in  a  moment  of  ab- 
sent-mindedness, so  placed  the  two  infants  in  their 
cot  that  subsequently  no  one,  not  even — perhaps 
least  of  all — the  mother,  could  tell  which  was  the 
one  who  had  been  the  first  to  make  his  appearance 
into  this  troublesome  and  puzzling  world. 

"  After  many  years  of  cogitation,  during  which 
the  Lord  de  Genneville  approached  nearer  to  the 
grave  and  his  sons  to  man's  estate,  he  gave  up 
trying  to  solve  the  riddle  as  to  which  of  the  twins 
should  succeed  to  his  title  and  revenues;  he  ap- 
pealed to  his  Liege  Lord  and  King — Edward, 
fourth  of  that  name — and  with  the  latter's  august 
sanction  he  drew  up  a  certain  document,  wherein 
he  enacted  that  both  his  sons  should,  after  his 
death,  share  his  titles  and  goodly  revenues,  and 
that  the  first  son  born  in  wedlock  of  either  father 
should  subsequently  be  the  sole  heir. 

"  In  this  document  was  also  added  that  if  in 
future  times  should  any  Lords  de  Genneville  be 
similarly  afflicted  with  twin  sons,  who  had  equal 


273 

rights  to  be  considered  the  eldest  born,  the  same 
rule  should  apply  as  to  the  succession. 

"  Subsequently  a  Lord  de  Genneville  was 
created  Earl  of  Brockelsby  by  one  of  the  Stuart 
kings,  but  for  four  hundred  years  after  its  enact- 
ment the  extraordinary  deed  of  succession  re- 
mained a  mere  tradition,  the  Countesses  of  Brock- 
elsby  having,  seemingly,  no  predilection  for  twins. 
But  in  1878  the  mistress  of  Brockelsby  Castle  pre- 
sented her  lord  with  twin-born  sons. 

"  Fortunately,  in  modern  times,  science  is  more 
wide-awake,  and  attendants  more  careful.  The 
twin  brothers  did  not  get  mixed  up,  and  one 
was  styled  Viscount  Tirlemont,  and  was  heir 
to  the  earldom,  whilst  the  other,  born  two  hours 
later,  was  that  fascinating,  dashing  young  Guards- 
man, well  known  at  Hurlingham,  Goodwood, 
London,  and  in  his  own  county — the  Hon.  Robert 
Ingram  de  Genneville. 

"  It  certainly  was  an  evil  day  for  this  brilliant 
young  scion  of  the  ancient  race  when  he  lent  an 
ear  to  Timothy  Beddingfield.  This  man,  and  his 
family  before  him,  had  been  solicitors  to  the  Earls 
of  Brockelsby  for  many  generations,  but  Timothy, 
owing  to  certain  *  irregularities,'  had  forfeited  the 
confidence  of  his  client,  the  late  earl. 

"  He  was  still  in  practice  in  Birmingham,  how- 
ever, and,  of  course,  knew  the  ancient  family  tradi- 
tion anent  the  twin  succession.  Whether  he  was 


274         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

prompted  by  revenge  or  merely  self-advertisement 
no  one  knows. 

"  Certain  it  is  that  he  did  advise  the  Hon.  Rob- 
ert de  Genneville — who  apparently  had  more  debts 
than  he  conveniently  could  pay,  and  more  extrava- 
gant tastes  than  he  could  gratify  on  a  younger 
son's  portion — to  lay  a  claim  on  his  father's  death 
to  the  joint  title  and  a  moiety  of  the  revenues  of 
the  ancient  barony  of  Genneville,  that  claim  being 
based  upon  the  validity  of  the  fifteenth-century 
document. 

"  You  may  gather  how  extensive  were  the  pre- 
tensions of  the  Hon.  Robert  from  the  fact  that  the 
greater  part  of  Edgbaston  is  now  built  upon  land 
belonging  to  the  old  barony.  Anyway,  it  was  the 
last  straw  in  an  ocean  of  debt  and  difficulties,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  Beddingfield  had  not  much 
trouble  in  persuading  the  Hon.  Robert  to  com- 
mence litigation  at  once. 

"  The  young  Earl  of  Brockelsby's  attitude, 
however,  remained  one  of  absolute  quietude  in  his 
nine  points  of  the  law.  He  was  in  possession  both 
of  the  title  and  of  the  document.  It  was  for  the 
other  side  to  force  him  to  produce  the  one  or  to 
share  the  other. 

"  It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  that 
the  Hon.  Robert  was  advised  to  marry,  in  order 
to  secure,  if  possible,  the  first  male  heir  of  the 
next  generation,  since  the  young  Earl  himself  was 
still  a  bachelor.  A  suitable  fiancee  was  found  for 


THE  SHRIEKS  OF  THE  CHAMBERMAID 

ATTRACTED  SOME   OF  THE  WAITERS  " 


him  by  his  friends  in  the  person  of  Miss  Mabel 
Brandon,  the  daughter  of  a  rich  Birmingham 
manufacturer,  and  the  marriage  was  fixed  to  take 
place  at  Birmingham  on  Thursday,  September 
I5th,  1907. 

"On  the  1 3th  the  Hon.  Robert  Ingram  de 
Genneville  arrived  at  the  Castle  Hotel  in  New 
Street  for  his  wedding,  and  on  the  I4th,  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  was  discovered  lying  on 
the  floor  of  his  bedroom — murdered. 

"  The  sensation  which  the  awful  and  unex- 
pected sequel  to  the  De  Genneville  peerage  case 
caused  in  the  minds  of  the  friends  of  both  litigants 
was  quite  unparalleled.  I  don't  think  any  crime 
of  modern  times  created  quite  so  much  stir  in  all 
classes  of  society.  Birmingham  was  wild  with 
excitement,  and  the  employes  of  the  Castle  Hotel 
had  real  difficulty  in  keeping  off  the  eager  and  in- 
quisitive crowd  who  thronged  daily  to  the  hall, 
vainly  hoping  to  gather  details  of  news  relating  to 
the  terrible  tragedy.- 

"At  present  there  was  but  little  to  tell.  The 
shrieks  of  the  chambermaid,  who  had  gone  into 
the  Hon.  Robert's  room  with  his  shaving  water 
at  eight  o'clock,  had  attracted  some  of  the  waiters. 
Soon  the  manager  and  his  secretary  came  up,  and 
immediately  sent  for  the  police. 

"  It  seemed  at  first  sight  as  if  the  young  man 
had  been  the  victim  of  a  homicidal  maniac,  so 
brutal  had  been  the  way  in  which  he  had  been 


276        THE   MAN   IN   THE  CORNER 

assassinated.  The  head  and  body  were  battered 
and  bruised  by  some  heavy  stick  or  poker,  almost 
past  human  shape,  as  if  the  murderer  had  wished 
to  wreak  some  awful  vengeance  upon  the  body 
of  his  victim.  In  fact,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
recount  the  gruesome  aspect  of  that  room  and  of 
the  murdered  man's  body  such  as  the  police  and 
the  medical  officer  took  note  of  that  day. 

"  It  was  supposed  that  the  murder  had  been 
committed  the  evening  before,  as  the  victim  was 
dressed  in  his  evening  clothes,  and  all  the  lights 
in  the  room  had  been  left  fully  turned  on.  Rob- 
bery, also,  must  have  had  a  large  share  in  the 
miscreant's  motives,  for  the  drawers  and  cup- 
boards, the  portmanteau  and  dressing-bag  had 
been  ransacked  as  if  in  search  of  valuables.  On 
the  floor  there  lay  a  pocket-book  torn  in  half  and 
only  containing  a  few  letters  addressed  to  the  Hon. 
Robert  de  Genneville. 

'  The  Earl  of  Brockelsby,  next-of-kin  to  the  de- 
ceased, was  also  telegraphed  for.  He  drove  over 
from  Brockelsby  Castle,  which  is  about  seven  miles 
from  Birmingham.  He  was  terribly  affected  by 
the  awfulness  of  the  tragedy,  and  offered  a  liberal 
reward  to  stimulate  the  activity  of  the  police  in 
search  of  the  miscreant. 

'  The  inquest  was  fixed  for  the  iyth,  three  days 
later,  and  the  public  was  left  wondering  where  the 
solution  lay  of  the  terrible  and  gruesome  murder 
at  the  Castle  Hotel." 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

A  HIGH-BRED  GENTLEMAN 

"  THE  central  figure  in  the  coroner's  court  that 
day  was  undoubtedly  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby  in 
deep  black,  which  contrasted  strongly  with  his 
florid  complexion  and  fair  hair.  Sir  Marmaduke 
Ingersoll,  his  solicitor,  was  with  him,  and  he  had 
already  performed  the  painful  duty  of  identifying 
the  deceased  as  his  brother.  This  had  been  an 
exceedingly  painful  duty  owing  to  the  terribly 
mutilated  state  of  the  body  and  face;  but  the 
clothes  and  various  trinkets  he  wore,  including  a 
signet  ring,  had  fortunately  not  tempted  the 
brutal  assassin,  and  it  was  through  them  chiefly 
that  Lord  Brockelsby  was  able  to  swear  to  the 
identity  of  his  brother. 

"  The  various  employes  at  the  hotel  gave  evi- 
dence as  to  the  discovery  of  the  body,  and  the 
medical  officer  gave  his  opinion  as  to  the  imme- 
diate cause  of  death.  Deceased  had  evidently 
been  struck  at  the  back  of  the  head  with  a  poker 
or  heavy  stick,  the  murderer  then  venting  his 
blind  fury  upon  the  body  by  battering  in  the  face 
and  bruising  it  in  a  way  that  certainly  suggested 
the  work  of  a  maniac. 

277 


278         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

"  Then  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby  was  called,  and 
was  requested  by  the  coroner  to  state  when  he  had 
last  seen  his  brother  alive. 

"  *  The  morning  before  his  death,'  replied  his 
lordship,  '  he  came  up  to  Birmingham  by  an  early 
train,  and  I  drove  up  from  Brockelsby  to  see  him. 
I  got  to  the  hotel  at  eleven  o'clock  and  stayed  with 
him  for  about  an  hour.' 

"'And  that  is  the  last  you  saw  of  the  de- 
ceased? ' 

"  *  That  is  the  last  I  saw  of  him,'  replied  Lord 
Brockelsby. 

"  He  seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  moment  or  two 
as  if  in  thought  whether  he  should  speak  or  not, 
and  then  to  suddenly  make  up  his  mind  to  speak, 
for  he  added :  *  I  stayed  in  town  the  whole  of 
that  day,  and  only  drove  back  to  Brockelsby  late 
in  the  evening.  I  had  some  business  to  transact, 
and  put  up  at  the  Grand,  as  I  usually  do,  and 
dined  with  some  friends.' 

'  Would  you  tell  us  at  what  time  you  returned 
to  Brockelsby  Castle?' 

4 1  think  it  must  have  been  about  eleven 
o'clock.  It  is  a  seven-mile  drive  from  here.' 

1 1  believe,'  said  the  coroner,  after  a  slight 
pause,  during  which  the  attention  of  all  the  spec- 
tators was  riveted  upon  the  handsome  figure  of  the 
young  man  as  he  stood  in  the  witness-box,  the  very 
personification  of  a  high-bred  gentleman,  *  I  be- 
lieve that  I  am  right  in  stating  that  there  was  an 


A    HIGH-BRED    GENTLEMAN          279 

unfortunate  legal  dispute  between  your  lordship 
and  your  brother?' 

"'  That  is  so.' 

"The  coroner  stroked  his  chin  thoughtfully  for 
a  moment  or  two,  then  he  added: 

"  '  In  the  event  of  the  deceased's  claim  to  the 
joint  title  and  revenues  of  De  Genneville  being 
held  good  in  the  courts  of  law,  there  would  be  a 
great  importance,  would  there  not,  attached  to  his 
marriage,  which  was  to  have  taken  place  on  the 
15th?1 

"  '  In  that  event,  there  certainly  would  be.' 

"  '  Is  the  jury  to  understand,  then,  that  you  and 
the  deceased  parted  on  amicable  terms  after  your 
interview  with  him  in  the  morning?  ' 

"  The  Earl  of  Brockelsby  hesitated  again  for  a 
minute  or  two,  while  the  crowd  and  the  jury  hung 
breathlessly  on  his  lips. 

"  '  There  was  no  enmity  between  us,'  he  replied 
at  last. 

"  *  From  which  we  may  gather  that  there  may 
have  been — shall  I  say — a  slight  disagreement  at 
that  interview?' 

*  My  brother  had  unfortunately  been  misled 
by  the  misrepresentations  or  perhaps  the  too  opti- 
mistic views  of  his  lawyer.  He  had  been  dragged 
into  litigation  on  the  strength  of  an  old  family 
document  which  he  had  never  seen,  which,  more- 
over, is  antiquated,  and,  owing  to  certain  wording 
in  it,  invalid.  I  thought  that  it  would  be  kinder 


28o         THE    MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

and  more  considerate  if  I  were  to  let  my  brother 
judge  of  the  document  for  himself.  I  knew  that 
when  he  had  seen  it  he  would  be  convinced  of  the 
absolutely  futile  basis  of  his  claim,  and  that  it 
would  be  a  terrible  disappointment  to  him.  That 
is  the  reason  why  I  wished  to  see  him  myself  about 
it,  rather  than  to  do  it  through  the  more  formal — • 
perhaps  more  correct — medium  of  our  respective 
lawyers.  I  placed  the  facts  before  him  with,  on 
my  part,  a  perfectly  amicable  spirit.' 

"  The  young  Earl  of  Brockelsby  had  made  this 
somewhat  lengthy,  perfectly  voluntary  explanation 
of  the  state  of  affairs  in  a  calm,  quiet  voice,  with 
much  dignity  and  perfect  simplicity,  but  the  coro- 
ner did  not  seem  impressed  by  it,  for  he  asked  very 
drily : 

"'Did  you  part  good  friends?' 

" '  On  my  side  absolutely  so.' 
'  But  not  on  his?'  insisted  the  coroner. 

"  *  I  think  he  felt  naturally  annoyed  that  he  had 
been  so  ill-advised  by  his  solicitors.' 

1 '  And  you  made  no  attempt  later  on  in  the  day 
to  adjust  any  ill-feeling  that  may  have  existed  be- 
tween you  and  him  ?  '  asked  the  coroner,  marking 
with  strange,  earnest  emphasis  every  word  he  ut- 
tered. 

*  If  you  mean  did  I  go  and  see  my  brother 
again  that  day — no,  I  did  not.' 

" '  And  your  lordship  can  give  us  no  further 
information  which  might  throw  some  light  upon 


A   HIGH-BRED   GENTLEMAN          281 

the  mystery  which  surrounds  the  Hon.  Robert  de 
Genneville's  death?'  still  persisted  the  coroner. 

"  '  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  cannot,'  replied  the 
Earl  of  Brockelsby  with  firm  decision. 

"  The  coroner  still  looked  puzzled  and  thought- 
ful. It  seemed  at  first  as  if  he  wished  to  press 
his  point  further;  everyone  felt  that  some  deep 
import  had  lain  behind  his  examination  of  the  wit- 
ness, and  all  were  on  tenterhooks  as  to  what  the 
next  evidence  might  bring  forth.  The  Earl  of 
Brockelsby  had  waited  a  minute  or  two,  then,  at 
a  sign  from  the  coroner,  had  left  the  witness-box 
in  order  to  have  a  talk  with  his  solicitor. 

"  At  first  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  depositions 
of  the  cashier  and  hall  porter  of  the  Castle  Hotel, 
but  gradually  it  seemed  to  strike  him  that  curious 
statements  were  being  made  by  these  witnesses, 
and  a  frown  of  anxious  wonder  settled  between  his 
brows,  whilst  his  young  face  lost  some  of  its  florid 
hue. 

"  Mr.  Tremlett,  the  cashier  at  the  hotel,  had 
been  holding  the  attention  of  the  court.  He 
stated  that  the  Hon.  Robert  Ingram  de  Genne- 
ville  had  arrived  at  the  hotel  at  eight  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  I3th;  he  had  the  room  which 
he  usually  occupied  when  he  came  to  the  *  Castle,' 
namely,  No.  21,  and  he  went  up  to  it  immediately 
on  his  arrival,  ordering  some  breakfast  to  be 
brought  up  to  him. 

"  At  eleven  o'clock  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby  called 


282         THE    MAN    IN   THE   CORNER 

to  see  his  brother  and  remained  with  him  until 
about  twelve.  In  the  afternoon  deceased  went 
out,  and  returned  for  his  dinner  at  seven  o'clock 
in  company  with  a  gentleman  whom  the  cashier 
knew  well  by  sight,  Mr.  Timothy  Beddingfield, 
the  lawyer,  of  Paradise  Street.  The  gentlemen 
had  their  dinner  downstairs,  and  after  that  they 
went  up  to  the  Hon.  Mr.  de  Genneville's  room 
for  coffee  and  cigars. 

"  '  I  could  not  say  at  what  time  Mr.  Bedding- 
field  left,'  continued  the  cashier,  *  but  I  rather 
fancy  I  saw  him  in  the  hall  at  about  9.15  p.  m. 
He  was  wearing  an  Inverness  cape  over  his  dress 
clothes  and  a  Glengarry  cap.  It  was  just  at  the 
hour  when  the  visitors  who  had  come  down  for 
the  night  from  London  were  arriving  thick  and 
fast;  the  hall  was  very  full,  and  there  was  a  large 
party  of  Americans  monopolising  most  of  our 
personnel,  so  I  could  not  swear  positively  whether 
I  did  see  Mr.  Beddingfield  or  not  then,  though 
I  am  quite  sure  that  it  was  Mr.  Timothy  Bedding- 
field  who  dined  and  spent  the  evening  with  the 
Hon.  Mr.  de  Genneville,  as  I  know  him  quite  well 
by  sight.  At  ten  o'clock  I  am  off  duty,  and  the 
night  porter  remains  alone  in  the  hall.' 

"Mr.  Tremlett's  evidence  was  corroborated  in 
most  respects  by  a  waiter  and  by  the  hall  porter. 
They  had  both  seen  the  deceased  come  in  at  seven 
o'clock  in  company  with  a  gentleman,  and  their 
description  of  the  latter  coincided  with  that  of  the 


A   HIGH-BRED    GENTLEMAN          283 

appearance  of  Mr.  Timothy  Beddingfield,  whom, 
however,  they  did  not  actually  know. 

"At  this  point  of  the  proceedings  the  foreman 
of  the  jury  wished  to  know  why  Mr.  Timothy 
Beddingfield's  evidence  had  not  been  obtained, 
and  was  informed  by  the  detective-inspector  in 
charge  of  the  case  that  that  gentleman  had  seem- 
ingly left  Birmingham,  but  was  expected  home 
shortly.  The  coroner  suggested  an  adjournment 
pending  Mr.  Beddingfield's  appearance,  but  at  the 
earnest  request  of  the  detective  he  consented  to 
hear  the  evidence  of  Peter  Tyrrell,  the  night 
porter  at  the  Castle  Hotel,  who,  if  you  remember 
the  case  at  all,  succeeded  in  creating  the  biggest 
sensation  of  any  which  had  been  made  through 
this  extraordinary  and  weirdly  gruesome  case. 

"  '  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  on  duty  at 
"  The  Castle,"  '  he  said,  '  for  I  used  to  be  night 
porter  at  "  Bright's,"  in  Wolverhampton,  but  just 
after  I  had  come  on  duty  at  ten  o'clock  a  gentle- 
man came  and  asked  if  he  could  see  the  Hon. 
Robert  de  Genneville.  I  said  that  I  thought  he 
was  in,  but  would  send  up  and  see.  The  gentle- 
man said:  "It  doesn't  matter.  Don't  trouble; 
I  know  his  room.  Twenty-one,  isn't  it?"  And 
up  he  went  before  I  could  say  another  word.' 

'Did  he   give   you   any   name?'    asked  the 
coroner. 

"'No,  sir.' 

"'What  was  he  like?' 


284        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

; '  A  young  gentleman,  sir,  as  far  as  I  can  re- 
member, in  an  Inverness  cape  and  Glengarry  cap, 
but  I  could  not  see  his  face  very  well  as  he  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  light,  and  the  cap  shaded  his 
eyes,  and  he  only  spoke  to  me  for  a  minute.' 

*  Look  all  round  you/  said  the  coroner  quietly. 
*  Is  there  anyone  in  this  court  at  all  like  the  gentle- 
man you  speak  of?' 

"  An  awed  hush  fell  over  the  many  spectators 
there  present  as  Peter  Tyrrell,  the  night  porter 
of  the  Castle  Hotel,  turned  his  head  towards  the 
body  of  the  court  and  slowly  scanned  the  many 
faces  there  present;  for  a  moment  he  seemed  to 
hesitate — only  for  a  moment  though,  then,  as  if 
vaguely  conscious  of  the  terrible  importance  his 
next  words  might  have,  he  shook  his  head  gravely 
and  said: 

'  I  wouldn't  like  to  swear.' 
:<  The  coroner  tried  to  press  him,  but  with  true 
British  stolidity  he  repeated :     *  I  wouldn't  like 
to  say.' 

'Well,    then,    what    happened?'    asked    the 
coroner,  who  had  perforce  to  abandon  his  point. 

*  The  gentleman  went  upstairs,  sir,  and  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  come  down  again, 
and  I  let  him  out.    He  was  in  a  great  hurry  then ; 
he  threw  me  a  half-crown  and  said:    "Good- 
night." ' 

"  '  And  though  you  saw  him  again  then,  you 
cannot  tell  us  if  you  would  know  him  again?' 


A   HIGH-BRED   GENTLEMAN          285 

"  Once  more  the  hall  porter's  eyes  wandered 
as  if  instinctively  to  a  certain  face  in  the  court; 
once  more  he  hesitated  for  many  seconds  which 
seemed  like  so  many  hours,  during  which  a  man's 
honour,  a  man's  life,  hung  perhaps  in  the  balance. 

"Then  Peter  Tyrrell  repeated  slowly:  'I 
wouldn't  swear.' 

"  But  coroner  and  jury  alike,  aye,  and  every 
spectator  in  that  crowded  court,  had  seen  that  the 
man's  eyes  had  rested  during  that  one  moment  of 
hesitation  upon  the  face  of  the  Earl  of  Brock- 
elsby." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

THE  LIVING  AND  THE  DEAD 

THE  man  in  the  corner  blinked  across  at  Polly 
with  his  funny  mild  blue  eyes. 

"No  wonder  you  are  puzzled,"  he  continued, 
"  so  was  everybody  in  the  court  that  day,  every 
one  save  myself.  I  alone  could  see  in  my  mind's 
eye  that  gruesome  murder  such  as  it  had  been 
committed,  with  all  its  details,  and,  above  all,  its 
motive,  and  such  as  you  will  see  it  presently,  when 
I  place  it  all  clearly  before  you. 

"  But  before  you  see  daylight  in  this  strange 
case,  I  must  plunge  you  into  further  darkness,  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  coroner  and  jury  were 
plunged  on  the  following  day,  the  second  day  of 
that  remarkable  inquest.  It  had  to  be  adjourned, 
since  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Timothy  Beddingfield 
had  now  become  of  vital  importance.  The  public 
had  come  to  regard  his  absence  from  Birmingham 
at  this  critical  moment  as  decidedly  remarkable,  to 
say  the  least  of  it,  and  all  those  who  did  not  know 
the  lawyer  by  sight  wished  to  see  him  in  his  In- 
verness cape  and  Glengarry  cap  such  as  he  had 
appeared  before  the  several  witnesses  on  the  night 
of  the  awful  murder. 

286 


THE    LIVING  AND    THE    DEAD       287 

"When  the  coroner  and  jury  were  seated,  the 
first  piece  of  information  which  the  police  placed 
before  them  was  the  astounding  statement  that 
Mr.  Timothy  Beddingfield's  whereabouts  had  not 
been  ascertained,  though  it  was  confidently  ex- 
pected that  he  had  not  gone  far  and  could  easily 
be  traced.  There  was  a  witness  present  who,  the 
police  thought,  might  throw  some  light  as  to  the 
lawyer's  probable  destination,  for  obviously  he 
had  left  Birmingham  directly  after  his  interview 
with  the  deceased. 

"  This  witness  was  Mrs.  Higgins,  who  was  Mr, 
Beddingfield's  housekeeper.  She  stated  that  her 
master  was  in  the  constant  habit — especially 
latterly — of  going  up  to  London  on  business.  He 
usually  left  by  a  late  evening  train  on  those  occa- 
sions, and  mostly  was  only  absent  thirty-six  hours. 
He  kept  a  portmanteau  always  ready  packed  for 
the  purpose,  for  he  often  left  at  a  few  moment's 
notice.  Mrs.  Higgins  added  that  her  master 
stayed  at  the  Great  Western  Hotel  in  London,  for 
it  was  there  that  she  was  instructed  to  wire  if  any- 
thing urgent  required  his  presence  back  in  Bir- 
mingham. 

'  On  the  night  of  the  I4th,'  she  continued, 
*  at  nine  o'clock  or  thereabouts,  a  messenger  came 
to  the  door  with  the  master's  card,  and  said  that 
he  was  instructed  to  fetch  Mr.  Beddingfield's 
portmanteau,  and  then  to  meet  him  at  the  station 
in  time  to  catch  the  9.35  p.  m.  up  train.  I  gave 


288         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

him  the  portmanteau,  of  course,  as  he  had  brought 
the  card,  and  I  had  no  idea  there  could  be  any- 
thing wrong;  but  since  then  I  have  heard  nothing 
of  my  master,  and  I  don't  know  when  he  will  re- 
turn.' 

"  Questioned  by  the  coroner,  she  added  that 
Mr.  Beddingfield  had  never  stayed  away  quite  so 
long  without  having  his  letters  forwarded  to  him. 
There  was  a  large  pile  waiting  for  him  now;  she 
had  written  to  the  Great  Western  Hotel,  London, 
asking  what  she  should  do  about  the  letters,  but 
had  received  no  reply.  She  did  not  know  the 
messenger  by  sight  who  had  called  for  the  port- 
manteau. Once  or  twice  before  Mr.  Beddingfield 
had  sent  for  his  things  in  that  manner  when  he 
had  been  dining  out. 

"  Mr.  Beddingfield  certainly  wore  his  Inverness 
cape  over  his  dress  clothes  when  he  went  out  at 
about  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He  also  wore 
a  Glengarry  cap. 

"  The  messenger  had  so  far  not  yet  been  found, 
and  from  this  point — namely,  the  sending  for  the 
portmanteau — all  traces  of  Mr.  Timothy  Bed- 
dingfield seem  to  have  been  lost.  Whether  he 
went  up  to  'London  by  that  9.35  train  or  not  could 
not  be  definitely  ascertained.  The  police  had 
questioned  at  least  a  dozen  porters  at  the  rail- 
way, as  well  as  ticket  collectors;  but  no  one  had 
any  special  recollection  of  a  gentleman  in  an  In- 
verness cape  and  Glengarry  cap,  a  costume  worn 


THE   LIVING  AND   THE    DEAD       289 

by  more  than  one  first-class  passenger  on  a  cold 
night  in  September. 

u  There  was  the  hitch,  you  see ;  it  all  lay  in 
this.  Mr.  Timothy  Beddingfield,  the  lawyer,  had 
undoubtedly  made  himself  scarce.  He  was  last 
seen  in  company  with  the  deceased,  and  wearing 
an  Inverness  cape  and  Glengarry  cap ;  two  or  three 
witnesses  saw  him  leaving  the  hotel  at  about  9.15. 
Then  the  messenger  calls  at  the  lawyer's  house 
for  the  portmanteau,  after  which  Mr.  Timothy 
Beddingfield  seems  to  vanish  into  thin  air;  but — 
and  that  is  a  great  '  but ' — the  night  porter  at  the 
*  Castle '  seems  to  have  seen  someone  wearing  the 
momentous  Inverness  and  Glengarry  half  an 
hour  or  so  later  on,  and  going  up  to  deceased's 
room,  where  he  stayed  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour. 

"  Undoubtedly  you  will  say,  as  everyone  said 
to  themselves  that  day  after  the  night  porter  and 
Mrs.  Higgins  had  been  heard,  that  there  was  a 
very  ugly  and  very  black  finger  which  pointed  un- 
pleasantly at  Mr.  Timothy  Beddingfield,  espe- 
cially as  that  gentleman,  for  some  reason  which 
still  required  an  explanation,  was  not  there  to 
put  matters  right  for  himself.  But  there  was  just 
one  little  thing — a  mere  trifle,  perhaps — which 
neither  the  coroner  nor  the  jury  dared  to  over- 
look, though,  strictly  speaking,  it  was  not  evi- 
dence. 

;<  You  will  remember  that  when  the  night  porter 


290         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

was  asked  if  he  could,  among  the  persons  present 
in  court,  recognise  the  Hon.  Robert  de  Genne- 
ville's  belated  visitor,  everyone  had  noticed  his 
hesitation,  and  marked  that  the  man's  eyes  had 
rested  doubtingly  upon  the  face  and  figure  of  the 
young  Earl  of  Brockelsby. 

"Now,  if  that  belated  visitor  had  been  Mr. 
Timothy  Beddingfield — tall,  lean,  dry  as  dust, 
with  a  bird-like  beak  and  clean-shaven  chin — no 
one  could  for  a  moment  have  mistaken  his  face — 
even  if  they  only  saw  it  very  casually  and  recol- 
lected it  but  very  dimly — with  that  of  young  Lord 
Brockelsby,  who  was  florid  and  rather  short — the 
only  point  in  common  between  them  was  their 
Saxon  hair. 

''You  see  that  it  was  a  curious  point,  don't 
you?"  added  the  man  in  the  corner,  who  now 
had  become  so  excited  that  his  fingers  worked 
like  long  thin  tentacles  round  and  round  his  bit  of 
string.  "  It  weighed  very  heavily  in  favour  of 
Timothy  Beddingfield.  Added  to  which  you 
must  also  remember  that,  as  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned, the  Hon.  Robert  de  Genneville  was  to  him 
the  goose  with  the  golden  eggs. 

"The  '  De  Genneville  peerage  case*  had 
brought  Beddingfield's  name  in  great  prominence. 
With  the  death  of  the  claimant  all  hopes  of  pro- 
longing the  litigation  came  to  an  end.  There 
was  a  total  lack  of  motive  as  far  as  Beddingfield 
was  concerned." 


THE   LIVING  AND   THE    DEAD       291 

"Not  so  with  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby,"  said 
Polly,  "and  I've  often  maintained " 

"What?"  he  interrupted.  "That  the  Earl  of 
Brockelsby  changed  clothes  with  Beddingfield  in 
order  more  conveniently  to  murder  his  own 
brother?  Where  and  when  could  the  exchange 
of  costumes  have  been  effected,  considering  that 
the  Inverness  cape  and  Glengarry  cap  were  in  the 
hall  of  the  Castle  Hotel  at  9.15,  and  at  that  hour 
and  until  ten  o'clock  Lord  Brockelsby  was  at  the 
Grand  Hotel  finishing  dinner  with  some  friends? 
That  was  subsequently  proved,  remember,  and 
also  that  he  was  back  at  Brockelsby  Castle,  which 
is  seven  miles  from  Birmingham,  at  eleven  o'clock 
sharp.  Now,  the  visit  of  the  individual  in 
the  Glengarry  occurred  some  time  after  10 
p.  m." 

"  Then  there  was  the  disappearance  of  Bed- 
dingfield," said  the  girl  musingly.  'That  cer- 
tainly points  very  strongly  to  him.  He  was  a 
man  in  good  practice,  I  believe,  and  fairly  well 
known." 

"And  has  never  been  heard  of  from  that  day 
to  this,"  concluded  the  old  scarecrow  with  a 
chuckle;  "no  wonder  you  are  puzzled.  The 
police  was  quite  baffled,  and  still  is,  for  a  matter 
of  that.  And  yet  see  how  simple  it  is!  Only 
the  police  would  not  look  further  than  these  two 
men — Lord  Brockelsby  with  a  strong  motive  and 
the  night  porter's  hesitation  against  him,  and 


292         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

Beddingfield  without  a  motive,  but  with  strong 
circumstantial  evidence  and  his  own  disappear- 
ance as  condemnatory  signs. 

"  If  only  they  would  look  at  the  case  as  I  did, 
and  think  a  little  about  the  dead  as  well  as  about 
the  living.  If  they  had  remembered  that  peerage 
case,  the  Hon.  Robert's  debts,  his  last  straw  which 
proved  a  futile  claim. 

"  Only  that  very  day  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby 
had,  by  quietly  showing  the  original  ancient  docu- 
ment to  his  brother,  persuaded  him  how  futile 
were  all  his  hopes.  Who  knows  how  many  were 
the  debts  contracted,  the  promises  made,  the 
money  borrowed  and  obtained  on  the  strength  of 
that  claim  which  was  mere  romance?  Ahead 
nothing  but  ruin,  enmity  with  his  brother,  his 
marriage  probably  broken  off,  a  wasted  life,  in 
fact. 

"  Is  it  small  wonder  that,  though  ill-feeling 
against  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby  may  have  been 
deep,  there  was  hatred,  bitter,  deadly  hatred 
against  the  man  who  with  false  promises  had  led 
him  into  so  hopeless  a  quagmire?  Probably  the 
Hon.  Robert  owed  a  great  deal  of  money  to  Bed- 
dingfield, which  the  latter  hoped  to  recoup  at 
usurious  interest,  with  threats  of  scandal  and  what 
not. 

"Think  of  all  that,"  he  added,  "and  then  tell 
me  if  you  believe  that  a  stronger  motive  for  the 
murder  of  such  an  enemy  could  well  be  found." 


THE   LIVING  AND   THE    DEAD       293 

"  But  what  you  suggest  is  impossible,"  said 
Polly,  aghast. 

"Allow  me,"  he  said,  "  it  is  more  than  possible 
— it  is  very  easy  and  simple.  The  two  men  were 
alone  together  in  the  Hon.  Robert  de  Genne- 
ville's  room  after  dinner.  You,  as  representing 
the  public,  and  the  police  say  that  Beddingfield 
went  away  and  returned  half  an  hour  later  in 
order  to  kill  his  client.  I  say  that  it  was  the 
lawyer  who  was  murdered  at  nine  o'clock  that 
evening,  and  that  Robert  de  Genneville,  the 
ruined  man,  the  hopeless  bankrupt,  was  the 
assassin." 

"Then " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  now  you  remember,  for  I  have 
put  you  on  the  track.  The  face  and  the  body 
were  so  battered  and  bruised  that  they  were  past 
recognition.  Both  men  were  of  equal  height. 
The  hair,  which  alone  could  not  be  disfigured 
or  obliterated,  was  in  both  men  similar  in  col- 
our. 

"  Then  the  murderer  proceeds  to  dress  his  vic- 
tim in  his  own  clothes.  With  the  utmost  care 
he  places  his  own  rings  on  the  fingers  of  the  dead 
man,  his  own  watch  in  the  pocket;  a  gruesome 
task,  but  an  important  one,  and  it  is  thoroughly 
well  done.  Then  he  himself  puts  on  the  clothes 
of  his  victim,  with  finally  the  Inverness  cape  and 
Glengarry,  and  when  the  hall  is  full  'of  visitors 
he  slips  out  unperceived,  He  sends  the  messenger 


294         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

for  Beddingfield's  portmanteau  and  starts  off  by 
the  night  express." 

"  But  then  his  visit  at  the  Castle  Hotel  at  ten 
o'clock "  she  urged.  "  How  dangerous !  " 

"Dangerous?  Yes!  but  oh,  how  clever.  You 
see,  he  was  the  Earl  of  Brockelsby's  twin  brother, 
and  twin  brothers  are  always  somewhat  alike. 
He  wished  to  appear  dead,  murdered  by  some- 
one, he  cared  not  whom,  but  what  he  did  care 
about  was  to  throw  clouds  of  dust  in  the  eyes  of 
the  police,  and  he  succeeded  with  a  vengeance. 
Perhaps — who  knows? — he  wished  to  assure  him- 
self that  he  had  forgotten  nothing  in  the  mlse  en 
scene,  that  the  body,  battered  and  bruised  past 
all  semblance  of  any  human  shape  save  for  its 
clothes,  really  would  appear  to  everyone  as  that 
of  the  Hon.  Robert  de  Genneville,  while  the 
latter  disappeared  for  ever  from  the  old  world 
and  started  life  again  in  the  new. 

;'  Then  you  must  always  reckon  with  the  prac- 
tically invariable  rule  that  a  murderer  always  re- 
visits, if  only  once,  the  scene  of  his  crime. 

"Two  years  have  elapsed  since  the  crime;  no 
trace  of  Timothy  Beddingfield,  the  lawyer,  has 
ever  been  found,  and  I  can  assure  you  that  it  will 
never  be,  for  his  plebeian  body  lies  buried  in  the 
aristocratic  family  vault  of  the  Earls  of  Brock- 
elsby." 

He  was  gone  before  Polly  could  say  another 
word.  The  faces  of  Timothy  Beddingfield,  of  the 


THE   LIVING   AND   THE    DEAD       295 

Earl  of  Brockelsby,  of  the  Hon.  Robert  de 
Genneville  seemed  to  dance  before  her  eyes  and 
to  mock  her  for  the  hopeless  bewilderment  in 
which  she  found  herself  plunged  because  of  them ; 
then  all  the  faces  vanished,  or,  rather,  were 
merged  in  one  long,  thin,  bird-like  one,  with  bone- 
rimmed  spectacles  on  the  top  of  its  beak,  and  a 
wide,  rude  grin  beneath  it,  and,  still  puzzled,  still 
doubtful,  the  young  girl  too  paid  for  her  scanty 
luncheon  and  went  her  way. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

THE   MYSTERIOUS   DEATH   IN   PERCY   STREET 

Miss  POLLY  BURTON  had  had  many  an  argument 
with  Mr.  Richard  Frobisher  about  that  old  man  in 
the  corner,  who  seemed  far  more  interesting  and 
deucedly  more  mysterious  than  any  of  the  crimes 
over  which  he  philosophised. 

Dick  thought,  moreover,  that  Miss  Polly  spent 
more  of  her  leisure  time  now  in  that  A.  B.  C.  shop 
than  she  had  done  in  his  own  company  before, 
and  told  her  so,  with  that  delightful  air  of  sheep- 
ish sulkiness  which  the  male  creature  invariably 
wears  when  he  feels  jealous  and  won't  admit  it. 

Polly  liked  Dick  to  be  jealous,  but  she  liked 
that  old  scarecrow  in  the  A.  B.  C.  shop  very  much 
too,  and  though  she  made  sundry  vague  promises 
from  time  to  time  to  Mr.  Richard  Frobisher,  she 
nevertheless  drifted  back  instinctively  day  after 
day  to  the  tea-shop  in  Norfolk  Street,  Strand,  and 
stayed  there  sipping  coffee  for  as  long  as  the  man 
in  the  corner  chose  to  talk. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  she  went  to  the 
A.  B.  C.  shop  with  a  fixed  purpose,  that  of  mak- 
ing him  give  her  his  views  of  Mrs.  Owen's  mys- 
terious death  in  Percy  Street. 

The  facts  had  Interested  and  puzzled  her.     She 
296 


DEATH    IN    PERCY    STREET  297 

had  had  countless  arguments  with  Mr.  Richard 
Frobisher  as  to  the  three  great  possible  solutions 
of  the  puzzle — "Accident,  Suicide,  Murder?" 

"  Undoubtedly  neither  accident  nor  suicide,"  he 
said  drily. 

Polly  was  not  aware  that  she  had  spoken. 
What  an  uncanny  habit  that  creature  had  of  read- 
ing her  thoughts ! 

"  You  incline  to  the  idea,  then,  that  Mrs.  Owen 
was  murdered.  Do  you  know  by  whom?  " 

He  laughed,  and  drew  forth  the  piece  of  string 
he  always  fidgeted  with  when  unraveling  some 
mystery. 

"  You  would  like  to  know  who  murdered  that 
old  woman?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  your  views  on  the  sub- 
ject," Polly  replied. 

"  I  have  no  views,"  he  said  drily.  "  No  one 
can  know  who  murdered  the  woman,  since  no  one 
ever  saw  the  person  who  did  it.  No  one  can  give 
the  faintest  description  of  the  mysterious  man 
who  alone  could  have  committed  that  clever  deed, 
and  the  police  are  playing  a  game  of  blind  man's 
buff." 

"  But  you  must  have  formed  some  theory  of 
your  own,"  she  persisted. 

It  annoyed  her  that  the  funny  creature  was 
obstinate  about  this  point,  and  she  tried  to  nettle 
his  vanity. 

"  I  suppose  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  your  orig- 


298         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

inal  remark  that  '  there  are  no  such  things  as 
mysteries'  does  not  apply  universally.  There  is 
a  mystery — that  of  the  death  in  Percy  Street,  and 
you,  like  the  police,  are  unable  to  fathom  it." 

He  pulled  up  his  eyebrows  and  looked  at  her 
for  a  minute  or  two. 

"  Confess  that  that  murder  was  one  of  the 
cleverest  bits  of  work  accomplished  outside  Rus- 
sian diplomacy,"  he  said  with  a  nervous  laugh. 
"  I  must  say  that  were  I  the  judge,  called  upon  to 
pronounce  sentence  of  death  on  the  man  who  con- 
ceived that  murder,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to 
do  it.  I  would  politely  request  the  gentleman 
to  enter  our  Foreign  Office — we  have  need  of  such 
men.  The  whole  mise  en  scene  was  truly  artistic, 
worthy  of  its  milieu — the  Rubens  Studios  in  Percy 
Street,  Tottenham  Court  Road. 

"  Have  you  ever  noticed  them  ?  They  are  only 
studios  by  name,  and  are  merely  a  set  of  rooms  in 
a  corner  house,  with  the  windows  slightly  en- 
larged, and  the  rents  charged  accordingly  in  con- 
sideration of  that  additional  five  inches  of  smoky 
daylight,  filtering  through  dusty  windows.  On 
the  ground  floor  there  is  the  order  office  for  some 
stained  glass  works,  with  a  workshop  in  the  rear, 
and  on  the  first  floor  landing  a  small  room  allotted 
to  the  caretaker,  with  gas,  coal,  and  fifteen  shil- 
lings a  week,  for  which  princely  income  she  is  de- 
puted to  keep  tidy  and  clean  the  general  aspect 
of  the  house. 


"ON  THE   FLOOR     .     .      .      LAY  THE  BODY  OF  MRS.  OWEN" 


DEATH    IN    PERCY    STREET  299 

"  Mrs.  Owen,  who  was  the  caretaker  there,  was 
a  quiet,  respectable  woman,  who  eked  out  her 
scanty  wages  by  sundry — mostly  very  meagre — 
tips  doled  out  to  her  by  impecunious  artists  in 
exchange  for  promiscuous  domestic  services  in  and 
about  the  respective  studios. 

"  But  if  Mrs.  Owen's  earnings  were  not  large 
they  were  very  regular,  and  she  had  no  fastidious 
tastes.  She  and  her  cockatoo  lived  on  her  wages; 
and  all  the  tips  added  up,  and  never  spent,  year 
after  year,  went  to  swell  a  very  comfortable  little 
account  at  interest  in  the  Birkbeck  Bank.  This 
little  account  had  mounted  up  to  a  very  tidy  sum, 
and  the  thrifty  widow — or  old  maid — no  one  ever 
knew  which  she  was — was  generally  referred  to 
by  the  young  artists  of  the  Rubens  Studios  as  a 
*  lady  of  means.'  But  this  is  a  digression. 

"  No  one  slept  on  the  premises  except  Mrs. 
Owen  and  her  cockatoo.  The  rule  was  that  one 
by  one  as  the  tenants  left  their  rooms  in  the 
evening  they  took  their  respective  keys  to  the 
caretaker's  room.  She  would  then,  in  the  early 
morning,  tidy  and  dust  the  studios  and  the  office 
downstairs,  lay  the  fire  and  carry  up  coals. 

"The  foreman  of  the  glass  works  was  the  first 
to  arrive  in  the  morning.  He  had  a  latch-key, 
and  let  himself  in,  after  which  it  was  the  custom 
of  the  house  that  he  should  leave  the  street  door 
open  for  the  benefit  of  the  other  tenants  and  their 
visitors. 


300        THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

"  Usually,  when  he  came  at  about  nine  o'clock, 
he  found  Mrs.  Owen  busy  about  the  house  doing 
her  work,  and  he  had  often  a  brief  chat  with  her 
about  the  weather,  but  on  this  particular  morning 
of  February  2nd  he  neither  saw  nor  heard  her. 
However,  as  the  shop  had  been  tidie'd  and  the 
fire  laid,  he  surmised  that  Mrs.  Owen  had  finished 
her  work  earlier  than  usual,  and  thought  no  more 
about  it.  One  by  one  the  tenants  of  the  studios 
turned  up,  and  the  day  sped  on  without  anyone's 
attention  being  drawn  noticeably  to  the  fact  that 
the  caretaker  had  not  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

"  It  had  been  a  bitterly  cold  night,  and  the 
day  was  even  worse;  a  cutting  north-easterly  gale 
was  blowing,  there  had  been  a  great  deal  of  snow 
during  the  night  which  lay  quite  thick  on  the 
ground,  and  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when 
the  last  glimmer  of  the  pale  winter  daylight  had 
disappeared,  the  confraternity  of  the  brush  put 
palette  and  easel  aside  and  prepared  to  go  home. 
The  first  to  leave  was  Mr.  Charles  Pitt ;  he  locked 
up  his  studio  and,  as  usual,  took  his  key  into  the 
caretaker's  room. 

"  He  had  just  opened  the  door  when  an  icy 
blast  literally  struck  him  in  the  face;  both  the 
windows  were  wide  open,  and  the  snow  and  sleet 
were  beating  thickly  into  the  room,  forming  al- 
ready a  white  carpet  upon  the  floor. 

"The  room  was  in  semi-obscurity,  and  at  first 
Mr.  Pitt  saw  nothing,  but  instinctively  realising 


DEATH    IN    PERCY   STREET          301 

that  something  was  wrong,  he  lit  a  match,  and 
saw  before  him  the  spectacle  of  that  awful  and 
mysterious  tragedy  which  has  ever  since  puzzled 
both  police  and  public.  On  the  floor,  already 
half  covered  by  the  drifting  snow,  lay  the  body  of 
Mrs.  Owen,  face  downwards,  in  a  nightgown, 
with  feet  and  ankles  bare,  and  these  and  her 
hands  were  of  a  deep  purple  colour;  whilst  in  a 
corner  of  the  room,  huddled  up  with  the  cold,  the 
body  of  the  cockatoo  lay  stark  and  stiff." 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

SUICIDE   OR   MURDER? 

"  AT  first  there  was  only  talk  of  a  terrible  ac- 
cident, the  result  of  some  inexplicable  carelessness 
which  perhaps  the  evidence  at  the  inquest  would 
help  to  elucidate. 

"  Medical  assistance  came  too  late ;  the  unfor- 
tunate woman  was  indeed  dead,  frozen  to  death, 
inside  her  own  room.  Further  examination 
showed  that  she  had  received  a  severe  blow  at 
the  back  of  the  head,  which  must  have  stunned 
her  and  caused  her  to  fall,  helpless,  beside  the 
open  window.  Temperature  at  five  degrees  be- 
low zero  had  done  the  rest.  Detective-Inspector 
Howell  discovered  close  to  the  window  a  wrought- 
iron  gas  bracket,  the  height  of  which  corre- 
sponded exactly  with  the  bruise  at  the  back  of 
Mrs.  Owen's  head. 

"  Hardly  however  had  a  couple  of  days  elapsed 
when  public  curiosity  was  whetted  by  a  few  start- 
ling headlines,  such  as  the  halfpenny  evening 
papers  alone  know  how  to  concoct. 

"  *  The  mysterious  death  in  Percy  Street.'  '  Is 
it  Suicide  or  Murder?'  'Thrilling  details — 
Strange  developments.'  '  Sensational  Arrest/ 

302 


SUICIDE   OR    MURDER?  303 

"What  had  happened  was  simply  this: 

"At  the  inquest  a  few  certainly  very  curious 
facts  connected  with  Mrs.  Owen's  life  had  come 
to  light,  and  this  had  led  to  the  apprehension  of 
a  young  man  of  very  respectable  parentage  on 
a  charge  of  being  concerned  in  the  tragic  death 
of  the  unfortunate  caretaker. 

"  To  begin  with,  it  happened  that  her  life, 
which  in  an  ordinary  way  should  have  been  very 
monotonous  and  regular,  seemed,  at  any  rate  lat- 
terly, to  have  been  more  than  usually  chequered 
and  excited.  Every  witness  who  had  known  her 
in  the  past  concurred  in  the  statement  that  since 
October  last  a  great  change  had  come  over  the 
worthy  and  honest  woman. 

"  I  happen  to  have  a  photo  of  Mrs.  Owen  as 
she  was  before  this  great  change  occurred  in  her 
quiet  and  uneventful  life,  and  which  led,  as  far 
as  the  poor  soul  was  concerned,  to  such  disastrous 
results. 

"  Here  she  is  to  the  life,"  added  the  funny  crea- 
ture, placing  the  photo  before  Polly — "  as  re- 
spectable, as  stodgy,  as  uninteresting  as  it  is  well 
possible  for  a  member  of  your  charming  sex  to  be; 
not  a  face,  you  will  admit,  to  lead  any  youngster 
to  temptation  or  to  induce  him  to  commit  a 
crime. 

"Nevertheless  one  day  all  the  tenants  of  the 
Rubens  Studios  were  surprised  and  shocked  to  see 
Mrs.  Owen,  quiet,  respectable  Mrs.  Owen,  sally- 


304         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

ing  forth  at  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  attired 
in  an  extravagant  bonnet  and  a  cloak  trimmed  with 
imitation  astrakhan  which — slightly  open  in  front 
— displayed  a  gold  locket  and  chain  of  astonish- 
ing proportions. 

"  Many  were  the  comments,  the  hints,  the  bits 
of  sarcasm  levelled  at  the  worthy  woman  by  the 
frivolous  confraternity  of  the  brush. 

"  The  plot  thickened  when  from  that  day  forth 
a  complete  change  came  over  the  worthy  caretaker 
of  the  Rubens  Studios.  While  she  appeared  day 
after  day  before  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  ten- 
ants and  the  scandalised  looks  of  the  neighbours, 
attired  in  new  and  extravagant  dresses,  her  work 
was  hopelessly  neglected,  and  she  was  always 
*  out '  when  wanted. 

'  There  was,  of  course,  much  talk  and  com- 
ment in  various  parts  of  the  Rubens  Studios  on 
the  subject  of  Mrs.  Owen's  'dissipations.'  The 
tenants  began  to  put  two  and  two  together,  and 
after  a  very  little  while  the  general  concensus  of 
opinion  became  firmly  established  that  the  honest 
caretaker's  demoralisation  coincided  week  for 
week,  almost  day  for  day,  with  young  Greenhill's 
establishment  in  No.  8  Studio. 

"  Everyone  had  remarked  that  he  stayed  much 
later  in  the  evening  than  anyone  else,  and  yet  no 
one  presumed  that  he  stayed  for  purposes  of 
work.  Suspicions  soon  arose  to  certainty  when 
Mrs.  Owen  and  Arthur  Greenhill  were  seen  by 


SUICIDE   OR    MURDER?  305 

one  of  the  glass  workmen  dining  together  at  Gam- 
bia's Restaurant  in  Tottenham  Court  Road. 

"The  workman,  who  was  having  a  cup  of  tea 
at  the  counter,  noticed  particularly  that  when  the 
bill  was  paid  the  money  came  out  of  Mrs.  Owen's 
purse.  The  dinner  had  been  sumptuous — veal 
cutlets,  a  cut  from  the  joint,  dessert,  coffee  and 
liqueurs.  Finally  the  pair  left  the  restaurant  ap- 
parently very  gay,  young  Greenhill  smoking  a 
choice  cigar. 

"  Irregularities  such  a"s  these  were  bound  sooner 
or  later  to  come  to  the  ears  and  eyes  of  Mr.  All- 
man,  the  landlord  of  the  Rubens  Studios;  and  a 
month  after  the  New  Year,  without  further  warn- 
ing, he  gave  her  a  week's  notice  to  quit  his 
house. 

" '  Mrs.  Owen  did  not  seem  the  least  bit  upset 
when  I  gave  her  notice,'  Mr.  Allman  declared  in 
his  evidence  at  the  inquest;  'on  the  contrary,  she 
told  me  that  she  had  ample  means,  and  had  only 
worked  latterly  for  the  sake  of  something  to  do. 
She  added  that  she  had  plenty  of  friends  who 
would  look  after  her,  for  she  had  a  nice  little 
pile  to  leave  to  anyone  who  would  know  how  "  to 
get  the  right  side  of  her." 

"  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  this  cheerful  inter- 
view, Miss  Bedford,  the  tenant  of  No.  6  Studio, 
had  stated  that  when  she  took  her  key  to  the 
caretaker's  room  at  6.30  that  afternoon  she  found 
Mrs.  Owen  in  tears.  The  caretaker  refused  to  be 


306        THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

comforted,  nor  would  she  speak  of  her  trouble  to 
Miss  Bedford. 

"  Twenty-four  hours  later  she  was  found  dead. 

"The  coroner's  jury  returned  an  open  verdict, 
and  Detective-Inspector  Jones  was  charged  by  the 
police  to  make  some  inquiries  about  young  Mr. 
Greenhill,  whose  intimacy  with  the  unfortunate 
woman  had  been  universally  commented  upon. 

"  The  detective,  however,  pushed  his  investi- 
gations as  far  as  the  Birkbeck  Bank.  There  he 
discovered  that  after  her  interview  with  Mr.  All- 
man,  Mrs.  Owen  had  withdrawn  what  money  she 
had  on  deposit,  some  £800,  the  result  of  twenty- 
five  years'  saving  and  thrift. 

"  But  the  immediate  result  of  Detective-Inspec- 
tor Jones's  labours  was  that  Mr.  Arthur  Green- 
hill,  lithographer,  was  brought  before  the  magis- 
trate at  Bow  Street  on  the  charge  of  being  con- 
cerned in  the  death  of  Mrs.  Owen,  caretaker  of 
the  Rubens  Studios,  Percy  Street. 

"Now  that  magisterial  inquiry  is  one  of  the 
few  interesting  ones  which  I  had  the  misfortune 
to  miss,"  continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  with 
a  nervous  shake  of  the  shoulders.  u  But  you 
know  as  well  as  I  do  how  the  attitude  of  the 
young  prisoner  impressed  the  magistrate  and 
police  so  unfavorably  that,  with  every  new  wit- 
ness brought  forward,  his  position  became  more 
and  more  unfortunate. 

'  Yet  he  was  a  good-looking,  rather  coarsely 


SUICIDE   OR    MURDER?  307 

built  young  fellow,  with  one  of  those  awful  Cock- 
ney accents  which  literally  make  one  jump.  But 
he  looked  painfully  nervous,  stammered  at  every 
word  spoken,  and  repeatedly  gave  answers  entirely 
at  random. 

"  His  father  acted  as  lawyer  for  him,  a  rough- 
looking  elderly  man,  who  had  the  appearance  of 
a  common  country  attorney  rather  than  of  a  Lon- 
don solicitor. 

"The  police  had  built  up  a  fairly  strong  case 
against  the  lithographer.  Medical  evidence  re- 
vealed nothing  new:  Mrs.  Owen  had  died  from 
exposure,  the  blow  at  the  back  of  the  head  not 
being  sufficiently  serious  to  cause  anything  but 
temporary  disablement.  When  the  medical  offi- 
cer had  been  called  in,  death  had  intervened  for 
some  time;  it  was  quite  impossible  to  say  how 
long,  whether  one  hour  or  five  or  twelve. 

"  The  appearance  and  state  of  the  room,  when 
the  unfortunate  woman  was  found  by  Mr.  Charles 
Pitt,  were  again  gone  over  in  minute  detail. 
Mrs.  Owen's  clothes,  which  she  had  worn  during 
the  day,  were  folded  neatly  on  a  chair.  The  key 
of  her  cupboard  was  in  the  pocket  of  her  dress. 
The  door  had  been  slightly  ajar,  but  both  the 
windows  were  wide  open ;  one  of  them,  which  had 
the  sash-line  broken,  had  been  fastened  up  most 
scientifically  with  a  piece  of  rope. 

"  Mrs.  Owen  had  obviously  undressed  prepara- 
tory to  going  to  bed,  and  the  magistrate  very 


3o8         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

naturally  soon  made  the  remark  how  untenable 
the  theory  of  an  accident  must  be.  No 
one  in  their  five  senses  would  undress  with  a 
temperature  at  below  zero,  and  the  windows 
wide  open. 

"After  these  preliminary  statements,  the  cash- 
ier of  the  Birkbeck  was  called  and  he  related 
the  caretaker's  visit  at  the  bank. 

" '  It  was  then  about  one  o'clock,'  he  stated. 
'  Mrs.  Owen  called  and  presented  a  cheque  to 
self  for  £827,  the  amount  of  her  balance.  She 
seemed  exceedingly  happy  and  cheerful,  and 
talked  about  needing  plenty  of  cash,  as  she  was 
going  abroad  to  join  her  nephew,  for  whom  she 
would  in  future  keep  house.  I  warned  her  about 
being  sufficiently  careful  with  so  large  a  sum,  and 
parting  from  it  injudiciously,  as  women  of  her 
class  are  very  apt  to  do.  She  laughingly  declared 
that  not  only  was  she  careful  of  it  in  the  present, 
but  meant  to  be  so  for  the  far-off  future,  for  she 
intended  to  go  that  very  day  to  a  lawyer's  office 
and  to  make  a  will.' 

"The  cashier's  evidence  was  certainly  startling 
in  the  extreme,  since  in  the  widow's  room  no  trace 
of  any  kind  was  found  of  any  money;  against  that, 
two  of  the  notes  handed  over  by  the  bank  to 
Mrs.  Owen  on  that  day  were  cashed  by  young 
Greenhill  on  the  very  morning  of  her  mysterious 
death.  One  was  handed  in  by  him  to  the  West 
End  Clothiers  Company,  in  payment  for  a  suit  of 


SUICIDE   OR   MURDER?  309 

clothes,  and  the  other  he  changed  at  the  Post 
Office  in  Oxford  Street. 

"After  that  all  the  evidence  had  of  necessity 
to  be  gone  through  again  on  the  subject  of  young 
Greenhill's  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Owen.  He  lis- 
tened to  it  all  with  an  air  of  the  most  painful 
nervousness;  his  cheeks  were  positively  green,  his 
lips  seemed  dry  and  parched,  for  he  repeatedly 
passed  his  tongue  over  them,  and  when  Constable 
E  1 8  deposed  that  at  2  a.  m.  on  the  morning  of 
February  2nd  he  had  seen  the  accused  and  spoken 
to  him  at  the  corner  of  Percy  Street  and  Tot- 
enham  Court  Road,  young  Greenhill  all  but 
fainted. 

"The  contention  of  the  police  was  that  the 
caretaker  had  been  murdered  and  robbed  during 
that  night  before  she  went  to  bed,  that  young 
Greenhill  had  done  the  murder,  seeing  that  he  was 
the  only  person  known  to  have  been  intimate  with 
the  woman,  and  that  it  was,  moreover,  proved  un- 
questionably that  he  was  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Rubens  Studios  at  an  extraordi- 
narily late  hour  of  the  night. 

"  His  own  account  of  himself,  and  of  that  same 
night,  could  certainly  not  be  called  very  satisfac- 
tory. Mrs.  Owen  was  a  relative  of  his  late 
mother's,  he  declared.  He  himself  was  a  lithog- 
rapher by  trade,  with  a  good  deal  of  time  and 
leisure  on  his  hands.  He  certainly  had  employed 
some  of  that  time  in  taking  the  old  woman  to 


3io         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

various  places  of  amusement.  He  had  on  more 
than  one  occasion  suggested  that  she  should  give 
up  menial  work,  and  come  and  live  with  him,  but, 
unfortunately,  she  was  a  great  deal  imposed  upon 
by  her  nephew,  a  man  of  the  name  of  Owen,  who 
exploited  the  good-natured  woman  in  every  pos- 
sible way,  and  who  had  on  more  than  one  occasion 
made  severe  attacks  upon  her  savings  at  the  Birk- 
beck  Bank. 

"  Severely  cross-examined  by  the  prosecuting 
counsel  about  this  supposed  relative  of  Mrs. 
Owen,  Greenhill  admitted  that  he  did  not  know 
him — had,  in  fact,  never  seen  him.  He  knew 
that  his  name  was  Owen  and  that  was  all.  His 
chief  occupation  consisted  in  sponging  on  the 
kind-hearted  old  woman,  but  he- only  went  to  see 
her  in  the  evenings,  when  he  presumably  knew 
that  she  would  be  alone,  and  invariably  after  all 
the  tenants  of  the  Rubens  Studios  had  left  for  the 
day. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  at  this  point  it  strikes 
you  at  all,  as  it  did  both  magistrate  and  counsel, 
that  there  was  a  direct  contradiction  in  this  state- 
ment and  the  one  made  by  the  cashier  of  the  Birk- 
beck  on  the  subject  of  his  last  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Owen.  '  I  am  going  abroad  to  join  my 
nephew,  for  whom  I  am  going  to  keep  house,'  was 
what  the  unfortunate  woman  had  said. 

"  Now  Greenhill,  in  spite  of  his  nervousness  and 
at  times  contradictory  answers,  strictly  adhered  to 


SUICIDE   OR   MURDER?  311 

his  point,  that  there  was  a  nephew  in  London, 
who  came  frequently  to  see  his  aunt. 

"  Anyway,  the  sayings  of  the  murdered  woman 
could  not  be  taken  as  evidence  in  law.  Mr. 
Greenhill  senior  put  the  objection,  adding:  *  There 
may  have  been  two  nephews,'  which  the  magis- 
trate and  the  prosecution  were  bound  to  admit. 

"  With  regard  to  the  night  immediately  pre- 
ceding Mrs.  Owen's  death,  Greenhill  stated  that 
he  had  been  with  her  to  the  theatre,  had  seen 
her  home,  and  had  had  some  supper  with  her  in 
her  room.  Before  he  left  her,  at  2  a.  m.,  she 
had  of  her  own  accord  made  him  a  present  of 
£10,  saying:  'I  am  a  sort  of  aunt  to  you,  Ar- 
thur, and  if  you  don't  have  it,  Bill  is  sure  to  get 
it.' 

"  She  had  seemed  rather  worried  in  the  early 
part  of  the  evening,  but  later  on  she  cheered  up. 

"  '  Did  she  speak  at  all  about  this  nephew  of 
hers  or  about  her  money  affairs?'  asked  the  mag- 
istrate. 

"  Again  the  young  man  hesitated,  but  said, 
'  No !  she  did  not  mention  either  Owen  or  her 
money  affairs.' 

"If  I  remember  rightly,"  added  the  man  in 
the  corner,  "  for  recollect  I  was  not  present,  the 
case  was  here  adjourned.  But  the  magistrate 
would  not  grant  bail.  Greenhill  was  removed 
looking  more  dead  than  alive — though  everyone 
remarked  that  Mr.  Greenhill  senior  looked  deter- 


312         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

mined  and  not  the  least  worried.  In  the  course 
of  his  examination  on  behalf  of  his  son,  of  the 
medical  officer  and  one  or  two  other  witnesses, 
he  had  very  ably  tried  to  confuse  them  on  the 
subject  of  the  hour  at  which  Mrs.  Owen  was  last 
known  to  be  alive. 

"He  made  a  very  great  point  of  the  fact  that 
the  usual  morning's  work  was  done  throughout 
the  house  when  the  inmates  arrived.  Was  it  con- 
ceivable, he  argued,  that  a  woman  would  do  that 
kind  of  work  over  night,  especially  as  she  was 
going  to  the  theatre,  and  therefore  would  wish  to 
dress  in  her  smarter  clothes?  It  certainly  was  a 
very  nice  point  levelled  against  the  prosecution, 
who  promptly  retorted:  Just  as  conceivable  as 
that  a  woman  in  those  circumstances  of  life  should, 
having  done  her  work,  undress  beside  an  open 
window  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  with  the 
snow  beating  into  the  room. 

"  Now  it  seems  that  Mr.  Greenhill  senior  could 
produce  any  amount  of  witnesses  who  could  help 
to  prove  a  conclusive  alibi  on  behalf  of  his  son,  if 
only  some  time  subsequent  to  that  fatal  2  a.  m.  the 
murdered  woman  had  been  seen  alive  by  some 
chance  passer-by. 

"  However,  he  was  an  able  man  and  an  earnest 
one,  and  I  fancy  the  magistrate  felt  some  sym- 
pathy for  his  strenuous  endeavours  on  his  son's 
behalf.  He  granted  a  week's  adjournment,  which 
seemed  to  satisfy  Mr.  Greenhill  completely. 


SUICIDE   OR    MURDER?  313 

"  In  the  meanwhile  the  papers  had  talked  and 
almost  exhausted  the  subject  of  the  mystery  in 
Percy  Street.  There  had  been,  as  you  no  doubt 
know  from  personal  experience,  innumerable  argu- 
ments on  the  puzzling  alternatives: — 

"Accident? 

"Suicide? 

"Murder? 

"A  week  went  by,  and  then  the  case  against 
young  Greenhill  was  resumed.  Of  course  the 
court  was  crowded.  It  needed  no  great  penetra- 
tion to  remark  at  once  that  the  prisoner  looked 
more  hopeful,  and  his  father  quite  elated. 

"Again  a  great  deal  of  minor  evidence  was 
taken,  and  then  came  the  turn  of  the  defence. 
Mr.  Greenhill  called  Mrs.  Hall,  confectioner,  of 
Percy  Street,  opposite  the  Rubens  Studios.  She 
deposed  that  at  8  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  Feb- 
ruary 3rd,  while  she  was  tidying  her  shop  window, 
she  saw  the  caretaker  of  the  Studios  opposite,  as 
usual,  on  her  knees,  her  head  and  body  wrapped 
in  a  shawl,  cleaning  her  front  steps.  Her  hus- 
band also  saw  Mrs.  Owen,  and  Mrs.  Hall  re- 
marked to  her  husband  how  thankful  she  was  that 
her  own  shop  had  tiled  steps,  which  did  not  need 
scrubbing  on  so  cold  a  morning. 

"  Mr.  Hall,  confectioner,  of  the  same  address, 
corroborated  this  statement,  and  Mr.  Greenhill, 
with  absolute  triumph,  produced  a  third  witness, 
Mrs.  Martin,  of  Percy  Street,  who  from  her  win- 


3H         THE   MAN   IN   THE   CORNER 

dow  on  the  second  floor  had,  at  7  :3O  a.  m.,  seen 
the  caretaker  shaking  mats  outside  her  front  door. 
The  description  this  witness  gave  of  Mrs.  Owen's 
get-up,  with  the  shawl  round  her  head,  coincided 
point  by  point  with  that  given  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hall. 

"After  that  Mr.  Greenhill's  task  became  an 
easy  one;  his  son  was  at  home  having  his  break- 
fast at  8  o'clock  that  morning — not  only  himself, 
but  his  servants  would  testify  to  that. 

"The  weather  had  been  so  bitter  that  the 
whole  of  that  day  Arthur  had  not  stirred  from 
his  own  fireside.  Mrs.  Owen  was  murdered  after 
8  a.  m.  on  that  day,  since  she  was  seen  alive  by 
three  people  at  that  hour,  therefore  his  son  could 
not  have  murdered  Mrs.  Owen.  The  police  must 
find  the  criminal  elsewhere,  or  else  bow  to  the 
opinion  originally  expressed  by  the  public  that 
Mrs.  Owen  had  met  with  a  terrible  untoward 
accident,  or  that  perhaps  she  may  have  wilfully 
sought  her  own  death  in  that  extraordinary  and 
tragic  fashion. 

"  Before  young  Greenhill  was  finally  discharged 
one  or  two  witnesses  were  again  examined,  chief 
among  these  being  the  foreman  of  the  glassworks. 
He  had  turned  up  at  the  Rubens  Studios  at  9 
o'clock,  and  been  in  business  all  day.  He  averred 
positively  that  he  did  not  specially  notice  any  sus- 
picious-looking individual  crossing  the  hall  that 
day.  '  But,'  he  remarked  with  a  smile,  *  I  don't 


SUICIDE    OR    MURDER?  315 

sit  and  watch  everyone  who  goes  up  and  down 
stairs.  I  am  too  busy  for  that.  The  street  door 
is  always  left  open;  anyone  can  walk  in,  up  or 
down,  who  knows  the  way.' 

"  That  there  was  a  mystery  in  connection  with 
Mrs.  Owen's  death — of  that  the  police  have  re- 
mained perfectly  convinced;  whether  young 
Greenhill  held  the  key  of  that  mystery  or  not 
they  have  never  found  out  to  this  day. 

"  I  could  enlighten  them  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
young  lithographer's  anxiety  at  the  magisterial 
inquiry,  but,  I  assure  you,  I  do  not  care  to  do  the 
work  of  the  police  for  them.  Why  should  I? 
Greenhill  will  never  suffer  from  unjust  suspicions. 
He  and  his  father  alone — besides  myself — know 
in  what  a  terribly  tight  corner  he  all  but  found 
himself. 

"  The  young  man  did  not  reach  home  till  nearly 
five  o'clock  that  morning.  His  last  train  had 
gone ;  he  had  to  walk,  lost  his  way,  and  wandered 
about  Hampstead  for  hours.  Think  what  his 
position  would  have  been  if  the  worthy  confec- 
tioners of  Percy  Street  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Owen 
'wrapped  up  in  a  shawl,  on  her  knees,  doing  the 
front  steps.' 

"  Moreover,  Mr.  Greenhill  senior  is  a  solicitor, 
who  has  a  small  office  in  John  Street,  Bedford 
Row.  The  afternoon  before  her  death  Mrs. 
Owen  had  been  to  that  office  and  had  there  made 
a  will  by  which  she  left  all  her  savings  to  young 


316         THE   MAN   IN.   THE   CORNER 

Arthur  Greenhill,  lithographer.  Had  that  will 
been  in  other  than  paternal  hands,  it  would  have 
been  proved,  in  the  natural  course  of  such  things, 
and  one  other  link  would  have  been  added  to  the 
chain  which  nearly  dragged  Arthur  Greenhill  to 
the  gallows — '  the  link  of  a  very  strong  motive.' 

"  Can  you  wonder  that  the  young  man  turned 
livid,  until  such  time  as  it  was  proved  beyond  a 
doubt  that  the  murdered  woman  was  alive  hours 
after  he  had  reached  the  safe  shelter  of  his  home? 

"  I  saw  you  smile  when  I  used  the  word  '  Mur- 
dered,' "  continued  the  man  in  the  corner,  growing 
quite  excited  now  that  he  was  approaching  the 
denouement  of  his  story.  "  I  know  that  the  pub- 
lic, after  the  magistrate  had  discharged  Arthur 
Greenhill,  was  quite  satisfied  to  think  that  the 
mystery  in  Percy  Street  was  a  case  of  accident — . 
or  suicide." 

"  No,"  replied  Polly,  "  there  could  be  no  ques- 
tion of  suicide,  for  two  very  distinct  reasons." 

He  looked  at  her  with  some  degree  of  astonish- 
ment. She  supposed  that  he  was  amazed  at  her 
venturing  to  form  an  opinion  of  her  own. 

"  And  may  I  ask  what,  in  your  opinion,  these 
reasons  are?"  he  asked  very  sarcastically. 

"To  begin  with,  the  question  of  money,"  she 
said — "  has  any  more  of  it  been  traced  so 
far?" 

"  Not  another  £5  note,"  he  said  with  a  chuckle ; 
"  they  were  all  cashed  in  Paris  during  the  Exhibi- 


SUICIDE   OR    MURDER?  317 

tlon,  and  you  have  no  conception  how  easy  a  thing 
that  is  to  do,  at  any  of  the  hotels  or  smaller  agents 
de  change" 

"That  nephew  was  a  clever  blackguard,"  she 
commented. 

"You  believe,  then,  in  the  existence  of  that 
nephew?  " 

"Why  should  I  doubt  it?  Someone  must  have 
existed  who  was  sufficiently  familiar  with  the 
house  to  go  about  in  it  in  the  middle  of  the  day 
without  attracting  anyone's  attention." 

"In  the  middle  of  the  day?"  he  said  with  a 
chuckle. 

"Any  time  after  8.30  in  the  morning." 

"  So  you,  too,  believe  in  the  *  caretaker,  wrapped 
up  in  a  shawl,'  cleaning  her  front  steps?"  he 
queried. 

«  But " 

"It  never  struck  you,  in  spite  of  the  training 
your  intercourse  with  me  must  have  given  you, 
that  the  person  who  carefully  did  all  the  work 
in  the  Rubens  Studios,  laid  the  fires  and  carried 
up  the  coals,  merely  did  it  in  order  to  gain  time; 
in  order  that  the  bitter  frost  might  really  and 
effectually  do  its  work,  and  Mrs.  Owen  be  not 
missed  until  she  was  truly  dead." 

"  But "  suggested  Polly  again. 

"  It  never  struck  you  that  one  of  the  greatest 
secrets  of  successful  crime  is  to  lead  the  police 
astray  with  regard  to  the  time  when  the  crime 


3i8         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

was  committed.  That  was,  if  you  remember,  the 
great  point  in  the  Regent's  Park  murder. 

"  In  this  case  the  '  nephew,'  since  we  admit  his 
existence,  would — even  if  he  were  ever  found, 
which  is  doubtful — be  able  to  prove  as  good  an 
alibi  as  young  Greenhill." 

"  But  I  don't  understand " 

"How  the  murder  was  committed?"  he  said 
eagerly.  "  Surely  you  can  see  it  all  for  yourself, 
since  you  admit  the  *  nephew  ' — a  scamp,  perhaps 
— who  sponges  on  the  good-natured  woman.  He 
terrorises  and  threatens  her,  so  much  so  that  she 
fancies  her  money  is  no  longer  safe  even  in  the 
Birkbeck  Bank.  Women  of  that  class  are  apt  at 
times  to  mistrust  the  Bank  of  England.  Anyway, 
she  withdraws  her  money.  Who  knows  what  she 
meant  to  do  with  it  in  the  immediate  future? 

"  In  any  case,  after  her  death  she  wishes  to 
secure  it  to  a  young  man  whom  she  likes,  and 
who  has  known  how  to  win  her  good  graces. 
That  afternoon  the  nephew  begs,  entreats  for 
more  money;  they  have  a  row;  the  poor  woman 
is  in  tears,  and  is  only  temporarily  consoled  by  a 
pleasant  visit  at  the  theatre. 

"At  2  o'clock  in  the  morning  young  Greenhill 
parts  from  her.  Two  minutes  later  the  nephew 
knocks  at  the  door.  He  comes  with  a  plausible 
tale  of  having  missed  his  last  train,  and  asks  for 
a  '  shake  down '  somewhere  in  the  house.  The 
good-natured  woman  suggests  a  sofa  in  one  of  the 


SUICIDE    OR    MURDER?  319 

studios,  and  then  quietly  prepares  to  go  to  bed. 
The  rest  is  very  simple  and  elementary.  The 
nephew  sneaks  into  his  aunt's  room,  finds  her 
standing  in  her  nightgown;  he  demands  money 
with  threats  of  violence;  terrified,  she  staggers, 
knocks  her  head  against  the  gas  bracket,  and  falls 
on  the  floor  stunned,  while  the  nephew  seeks  for 
her  keys  and  takes  possession  of  the  £800.  You 
will  admit  that  the  subsequent  mise  en  scene — is 
worthy  of  a  genius. 

"  No  struggle,  not  the  usual  hideous  accessories 
round  a  crime.  Only  the  open  windows,  the  bit- 
ter north-easterly  gale,  and  the  heavily  falling 
snow — two  silent  accomplices,  as  silent  as  the 
dead. 

"After  that  the  murderer,  with  perfect  pres- 
ence of  mind,  busies  himself  in  the  house,  doing 
the  work  which  will  insure  that  Mrs.  Owen  shall 
not  be  missed,  at  any  rate,  for  some  time.  He 
dusts  and  tidies;  some  few  hours  later  he  even 
slips  on  his  aunt's  skirt  and  bodice,  wraps  his 
head  in  a  shawl,  and  boldly  allows  those  neigh- 
bours who  are  astir  to  see  what  they  believe  to 
be  Mrs.  Owen.  Then  he  goes  back  to  her  room, 
resumes  his  normal  appearance,  and  quietly  leaves 
the  house." 

"  He  may  have  been  seen." 

"  He  undoubtedly  was  seen  by  two  or  three 
people,  but  no  one  thought  anything  of  seeing  a 
man  leave  the  house  at  that  hour.  It  was  very 


320        THE   MAN   IN    THE   CORNER 

cold,  the  snow  was  falling  thickly,  and  as  he  wore 
a  muffler  round  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  those 
who  saw  him  would  not  undertake  to  know  him 
again." 

"  That  man  was  never  seen  nor  heard  of 
again?"  Polly  asked. 

"He  has  disappeared  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 
The  police  are  searching  for  him,  and  perhaps 
some  day  they  will  find  him — then  society  will  be 
rid  of  one  of  the  most  ingenious  men  of  the  age." 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

THE  END 

HE  had  paused,  absorbed  in  meditation.  The 
young  girl  also  was  silent.  Some  memory  too 
vague  as  yet  to  take  a  definite  form  was  persist- 
ently haunting  her — one  thought  was  hammering 
away  in  her  brain,  and  playing  havoc  with  her 
nerves.  That  thought  was  the  inexplicable  feel- 
ing within  her  that  there  was  something  in  con- 
nection with  that  hideous  crime  which  she  ought 
to  recollect,  something  which — if  she  could  only 
remember  what  it  was — would  give  her  the  clue 
to  the  tragic  mystery,  and  for  once  ensure  her  tri- 
umph over  this  self-conceited  and  sarcastic  scare- 
crow in  the  corner. 

He  was  watching  her  through  his  great  bone- 
rimmed  spectacles,  and  she  could  see  the  knuckles 
of  his  bony  hands,  just  above  the  top  of  the  table, 
fidgeting,  fidgeting,  fidgeting,  till  she  wondered  if 
there  existed  another  set  of  fingers  in  the  world 
which  could  undo  the  knots  his  lean  ones  made 
in  that  tiresome  piece  of  string. 

Then  suddenly — a  propos  of  nothing,  Polly  re- 
membered— the  whole  thing  stood  before  her 
short  and  clear  like  a  vivid  lash  of  lightning: — 

321 


322         THE    MAN    IN    THE   CORNER 

Mrs.  Owen  lying  dead  in  the  snow  beside  her 
open  window;  one  of  them  with  a  broken  sash- 
line,  tied  up  most  scientifically  with  a  piece  of 
string.  I  remember  the  talk  there  had  been  at 
the  time  about  this  improvised  sash-line. 

That  was  after  young  Greenhill  had  been  dis- 
charged, and  the  question  of  suicide  had  been 
voted  an  impossibility. 

Polly  remembered  that  in  the  illustrated  papers 
photographs  appeared  of  this  wonderfully  knotted 
piece  of  string,  so  contrived  that  the  weight  of 
the  frame  could  but  tighten  the  knots,  and  thus 
keep  the  window  open.  She  remembered  that 
people  deduced  many  things  from  that  improvised 
sash-line,  chief  among  these  deductions  being  that 
the  murderer  was  a  sailor — so  wonderful,  so  com- 
plicated, so  numerous  were  the  knots  which  se- 
cured that  window  frame. 

But  Polly  knew  better.  In  my  mind's  eye  she 
saw  those  fingers,  rendered  doubly  nervous  by 
the  fearful  cerebral  excitement,  grasping  at  first 
mechanically,  even  thoughtlessly,  a  bit  of  twine 
with  which  to  secure  the  window;  then  the  ruling 
habit  strongest  through  all,  the  girl  could  see  it; 
the  lean  and  ingenious  fingers  fidgeting,  fidgeting 
with  that  piece  of  string,  tying  knot  after  knot, 
more  wonderful,  more  complicated,  than  any  she 
had  yet  witnessed. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  she  said,  without  daring  to 
look  into  that  corner  where  he  sat,  "  I  would 


THE    END  323 

break  myself  of  the  habit  of  perpetually  making 
knots  in  a  piece  of  string." 

He  did  not  reply,  and  at  last  Polly  ventured  to 
look  up — the  corner  was  empty,  and  through  the 
glass  door  beyond  the  desk,  where  he  had  just  de- 
posited his  few  coppers,  she  saw  the  tails  of  his 
tweed  coat,  his  extraordinary  hat,  his  meagre, 
shrivelled-up  personality,  fast  disappearing  down 
the  street. 

Miss  Polly  Burton  (of  the  Evening  Observer} 
was  married  the  other  day  to  Mr.  Richard  Fro- 
bisher  (of  the  London  Mail).  She  has  never  set 
eyes  on  the  man  in  the  corner  from  that  day  to 
this. 


FINIS 


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